He lets out a quiet breath, like the answer is obvious.
“I remember everything when it comes to you.”
Something inside me softens in a way I can’t hold back. I kiss him, then move toward the piano carefully, like it might disappear if I rush. My fingers brush over the smooth surface before I sit, pressing a single key.
The sound fills the room.
Clear. Warm.
Home.
I don’t even realize I am crying until Dex’s hands are on my face, wiping the tears away before they can fall too far.
“You okay?”
I nod, even though my throat is tight.
“This is… everything.”
He studies me for a second longer, like he needs to be sure I mean it, and then something shifts in his expression.
“Good.”
His hands fall from my face, but only to take mine, pulling me gently to my feet.
“Because I am not done.”
My heart stumbles.
“Dex…”
He doesn’t let me finish.
He steps back.
And then he lowers himself onto one knee.
The world narrows.
Everything else disappears.
“My soul knew it the minute you walked into my bar,” he says, his voice steady, but there is something beneath it that makes my chest ache. “That it had found its match, that my life wouldn’t make sense if I didn’t find a way to be close to you.”
His thumb moves slowly over my hand, grounding, like he needs to feel me there.
“I know I fought it. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t stay away from you.” He kisses my knuckles.
I inhale sharply, my fingers tightening around his without meaning to.
“And I don’t ever want to find out what life is like without you. I want to wake up to the sound of you playing that piano,” he continues, his eyes flicking toward it before finding me again. “Barefoot, half asleep… filling this house with something that is yours.”
My breath catches.
“I want lazy nights with you,” he murmurs, softer now. “Marvel marathons, arguing over which one is the best, not stopping until we are both too busy making love to fight.”
A small, shaky laugh slips through my tears, because I can see it so clearly it hurts.
“I want to get up every morning and find you dancing with our kids. I want to see a little boy and a little girl running through this place,” he says, his voice deepening. “Your blonde hair. Your blue eyes. Your stubbornness.”
