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"Trust me," I say quietly, coming around to open her door.

She takes my hand and lets me guide her through the lobby. The hotel is elegant in the winter evening, soft lighting casting warm shadows across the marble columns, arrangements of white orchids and winter greenery on polished tables. It looks nothing like it did on Halloween night, and yet the moment we step into the elevator, I see recognition flicker across Megan's face.

"Suite 1204," I say to the attendant.

Megan's breath catches, and her fingers tighten around mine.

When the elevator doors open, I lead her down the familiar hallway to the suite where everything began. I unlock the door with the keycard I picked up earlier, and we step inside.

The room has been transformed.

Candles flicker on every surface—the dresser, the nightstands, the windowsill. White roses fill crystal vases, their scent soft and sweet. The curtains are drawn back, revealing the city lights stretching out below us, and a bottle of champagne sits chilling on the table near the window.

Megan stops just inside the door, her hand pressed to her mouth.

"Brock," she whispers.

I close the door behind us and turn to face her.

"This room is where it started," I say quietly. "The first time we were here, I wore a mask. I concealed who I was because I convinced myself that wanting you was something I had to hide. I damaged your trust before you ever had the chance to give it freely."

Her brown eyes fill with tears, and I step closer, taking both of her hands in mine.

"I brought you back here because I wanted us to stand in this exact space with nothing hidden," I continue, my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. "No masks. No games. No deception. Just me, asking you openly for what I should have asked for from the beginning."

Megan's tears spill over, and I reach up to brush them away with my thumbs, framing her face in my hands.

"I love you, Megan," I tell her, letting her see everything I feel. "I love the life we're building together. I love watching you with Kayla. I love the way you've made space for me in your world, even after I broke your trust. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that I will never hide from you again."

I release her hands and reach into my jacket pocket, pulling out the small velvet box.

Megan's breath hitches, her eyes widening.

I drop to one knee, and the world narrows to just the two of us—her tear-streaked face, her trembling hands, the way she's looking at me like I'm offering her everything she's ever wanted.

"Megan Hartley," I say, opening the box to reveal the ring. "Will you marry me?"

For a moment, she doesn't speak. She just stares at me, tears streaming down her face, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

Then she drops to her knees in front of me, her hands coming up to cup my face.

"Yes," she whispers. "Yes, Brock. Yes."

Relief and joy crash through me so hard I can barely breathe. I pull the ring from the box and slide it onto her finger, and then I'm kissing her, my hands in her hair, her body pressed against mine.

"I love you," I murmur against her mouth.

"I love you too," she says, her voice breaking.

We stay like that for a long moment, kneeling on the floor of the hotel suite where everything began, holding each other like we're the only two people in the world.

Finally, I pull back, brushing her tears away. "Let's go home."

She nods, her smile radiant. "Okay."

The drive back to my house feels like it takes forever. Megan keeps looking at the ring on her finger, turning her hand to catch the light, and every time she does, warmth spreads through my chest.

When we finally pull into the driveway, I'm out of the car before the engine is fully off. Kayla is at her mother's for the weekend, and the house is dark and quiet. I unlock the door and pull Megan inside, my hands already reaching for her.