Page 114 of Trustfall

I nod my head. “Together.”

“Now no more stalling,” she says, moving her fingers in a come-hither motion. “Show me.”

I don’t take my eyes off her as I gently peel back the adhesive. Ryan gave me an extra one, so I could take this one off to show her. I watch as her eyes roam over the intricate pattern on my forearm. They dance up and down until they settle on the two letters on the side. Tears materialize behind her eyes and start falling down her cheeks.

“You—you got sutures?” she sniffles.

I nod as she continues to stare at the black-inked stitches that run along the crimson scar on my forearm. I tried to describe to Ryan exactly how the stitches looked. Where the ties were and how the edges of the suture material jutted out a little. He took some liberties, but I’m really happy with how it came out. At the bottom, written in script, are two little letters: E.C.

“You tattooed my awful attempt at stitchesandmy initials onto your skin. Forever?”

“Well, technically Marco’s boyfriend did, but yeah…” Shit, she hates it. She thinks I’m a psychopath. I wonder if Ryan is available for a cover-up later…

“I love it,” she says, snapping me out of my inner meltdown.

“Really?” I ask. “Then why are you crying?” I lift my thumb to wipe a tear away from her cheek.

“Because it’s—” she pauses, sucking in a breath of air. “the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“What you did for me that day. It meant so much to me. I can never repay you, and I know I’ll probably always have the scar to remember it by, but I wanted more.”

She laughs and burrows into my chest. “I love you, Luke.”

“Since the library?” I tease.

“Maybe even longer,” she replies.

“Then marry me,” I blurt out. I don’t think about it. I don’t go back and forth or worry that we literally just got back together an hour ago. I just say it because life is fucking short, and I can’t imagine it without the woman in my arms. There may be a lot of things I don’t know, but what I do know is that I don’t want to go another day without my grandmother’s ring on her finger.

She sits up and searches my eyes, then looks me up and down. Probably to check to make sure I’m not having a stroke.

“What?” she finally says.

“I mean, will you marry me? It’s a question. Not a demand. Look, it doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow, or even a year from now. I mean, I really hope it’s sooner than that. I just want to put a fucking ring on your finger and show the world that you’re mine and I’m yours. You deserve so much more than this shitty proposal. You deserve flowers and fireworks and a romantic candlelit dinner. I’ll give it all to you. But right now I just need to know that I’m it for you. Because there isn’t anyone else out there for me, Emory. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but Emory laughing was not it. It starts off slow and gentle, and then it bubbles up and out of her, and she starts wheezing, gasping for breath, until fat tears run down her face. The laughter stops, giving way to stifled sobs as she covers her mouth.

I blink. “Are you okay?”

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to anything before. I’m just so happy. I don’t know what to do.”

“Listen, Emory?—”

“Yes,” she interrupts me. “Yes, Luke Collins. I will marry you. You’re it for me.”

I can’t contain the dopey grin that takes over my face as I launch myself over to the end table and open the drawer.

“What are you?—”

But she stops speaking when I take out the little black box that I stashed in the drawer earlier. I got tired of staring at it, but now I can’t wait to open it.

“You already have a ring?” she asks.

“I do,” I reply.

She looks slightly confused. “So…you got a tattoo for me and got me a ring after I walked out on you and refused to speak to you for a day and a half?”

“Well, my mom gave me the ring after I told her about you. It was my grandmother’s…but yeah. I knew you’d be back.”

---