Page 229 of On the Breakaway

“Apparently, you like impossible.”

“I love impossible.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the smile she’s trying, and failing, to hide.

“I love you too.”

The words fall off her lips casually as if they don’t still knock the air out of my lungs every single time.

There’s not a soul on the swan boats, which I know is because they are closed for the season. They’re only giving us a ride because I rented one for an obscene amount of money. Seriously, they raked me over the coals for this. Watching her smile grow as we step onto the boat makes it worth every penny.

I’m hoping she chalks the lack of other passengers up to it being the middle of the week.

Boston is chilly today. The trees surrounding the garden are starting to turn colors, sunlight filtering through them in scattered patches across the walking paths.

Aside from the season, everything is almost identical to the afternoon we wandered through here on our first date. That was back when she insisted it didn’t mean anything. Back when it already meant more than either of us was willing to admit.

Her fingers lace through mine as the boat sails away from the dock. My thumb brushes over the ring box hidden inside my pocket.

It feels like it weighs thirty pounds.

After finally winning the Cup this past summer, I thought I’d experienced the worst kind of pressure imaginable. But it didn’t even remotely compare to the tiny velvet box currently threatening to give me a heart attack.

“You’ve been weird all day.” Avery’s fingers tighten around my own.

I glance down. “What?”

“You keep getting lost in your head.”

“Nope. I’m right here.”

“Is something going on?”

I can tell by the stubborn set of her jaw that she’s not going to drop it.

“Just thinking about the first time we were here. Feeling sentimental, I guess.”

She softens. “After Wesley and Nathan’s wedding last week, I’ve been a bit sentimental too.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Wesley and I spent years joking that we’d never need or want a man. Then she walked down the aisle to a man she never wants to be without.”

“She’s definitely changed her mind,” I say, nerves coiling tighter behind my ribs.

“Absolutely.”

“Have you?” I pull her hand onto my lap. “Changed your mind?”

She studies me. “You already know I love you.”

“But love and marriage are different things, Chaos.”

“Before we met, I never saw myself wanting marriage. My parents’ marriage was awful, and I felt the burden of it most of my life until recently.”

She’s right. After her childhood, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to get married. I think I could swallow it. I think I could love her, just like this, without a ring, forever. But damn it, I want her to marry me.

I’d called her parents a couple of weeks ago to tell them I was proposing. I didn’t ask for permission because Avery is the only person who has a say in that, but I wanted them to know. I wanted them to process it on their own time, so that, with any luck, they’d be happy for her. If she says yes. If I’m brave enough to ask.