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“You’re awfully tense for someone who’s celebrating a birthday tonight.”

She leaned into his touch as he pressed the muscles on either side of her neck.

“I have to survive a whole day of work first. My spreadsheet conquest is slow going.”

“I have complete faith in you. And it’ll be worth it.” His hands dropped from her shoulders, wrapping instead around her middle as he hugged her from behind. “I’m not going to scare you off, am I? I just want to do something special.”

Molly was grateful she couldn’t see his face. Because if she saw anything akin to the vulnerability she heard in his voice, it might break her in two.

“I think you’ve suppressed your instincts long enough.” Her hands found his arms where they wrapped around her. “Woo me, Bishop.” A request, an order, a wish.

He chuckled against the side of her face as they stood there, a quiet moment before they faced the day.

An impulse grabbed hold of Molly’s heart. Her opportunities had almost entirely slipped away, leaving her with this last chance to request her ring before that evening. Strangely, it was exactly the impetus she needed.

The threat of no longer having a choice forced her to make one.

“Aster,” she started, turning in his arms, “would it be alright if I wore my ring?” Spoken so simply, so easily, after months of anticipation. Reflex took control. It hadn’t been a difficult question at all.

He didn’t react, not for a full, wildly uncomfortable thirty seconds while his focus darted between her eyes, evidently unsure where to look.

“Of—of course,” he breathed, disentangling himself and pulling from his pocket the same velvet box Bentley had delivered the day before.

“I don’t carry it with me all the time,” he muttered quietly, a hint of shyness drawing her in with its sincerity. “But today is—well, I suppose I could tell you now.”

He tore his eyes from the jewelry box and looked at her.

“Tell me what?” Molly asked, finding her voice surprisingly watery.

“We got engaged three years ago today. I wasn’t going to . . . pressure you with it or anything. But I wanted to tell you about our engagement. You have asked about it before, and this felt like the right time. I’d hoped you might ask to see your ring at the very least, so I thought I should have it on me. And here you are, beating me to it.”

Finally, he cracked open the pandora’s box of commitment and history between them.

Surprise flooded her. It wasn’t so much that the ring looked different than she expected, but more that it felt different than she expected. Because every time Molly thought she’d located and watched her last bits of hope fall apart, she kept finding new shards tucked away in hidden places or, in this case, jewelry boxes.

It sent a part of her heart crashing, finally seeing the ring and finding no magical memories in its reveal. But when Molly looked up, she found that missing magic behind Aster’s eyes instead, independent of whatever hope she’d unknowingly assigned to a piece of metal and stone.

This felt like a defining moment, a place for befores and afters. Before she’d seen her ring: grief for the progress she wasn’t making. And after: acceptance, wholly.

Which meant they needed to fully let go and move on together. Aster had said he wouldn’t give up until she told him to.

She needed to tell him to.

She didn’t need her memories to know her own life anymore. She just needed him. The man who looked at her like the memories didn’t matter. Or rather, like he might love her, could love her, would love her, with or without them.

Aster cleared his throat, plucking the ring from its box. He held it between them. Light winked off the silver band and sapphire stone, and a thought occurred to her.

“Looks a bit like your family colors, doesn’t it?” After everything she’d learned about his relationship with his parents, the nod to his family crest surprised her. She watched as his face twitched, a fight at the corners of his mouth not to react.

“I prefer to think of it as the patron saint of our beloved sofa. And I was . . . convinced I didn’t have to avoid reminders of my heritage. That I could share it, with or without my parents’ blessing.” He answered carefully, his words treading lightly. Molly offered him her hand, feeling uncharacteristically tremulous. The ring slid on easily, a long-lost ship finally returning to port.

Aster brushed his thumb over the stone, eyes still locked on it. “Eli. He gave it to me—you, us—actually. It’s only a coincidence that it looks straight from my mother’s jewelry boxes. It actually belonged to his.”

Molly sank into the kitchen chair beside her, suddenly wobbly. Her eyes pricked with a wave of tears. “His mother’s ring? He’s only ever mentioned his father, and not fondly. Is she . . .”

Aster nodded in a single, sharp motion. “She died when we were kids. After everything with my family, he was very insistent that he wanted us to have it.”

A groan-turned-laugh-turned-almost-sob bubbled up Molly’s throat. “And I was thinking about changing our locks.”