Page 145 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“What? Married?”

“No.”

“Divorce?”

“Nope.”

Her lips flatten into a thin line. “Enlighten me.”

“Yet.”

Brows squished together, she says, “What? That doesn’t even—oh.” Her eyes widen. “Right. That word.”

“Did you mean it?”

Her gaze darts out toward the field, watching the kiddos chase after the ball. It’s something I should probably be doing, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off her.

This moment feels too important.

Too telling.

I don’t just want to hear her answer; I want to see it too.

After nearly a year of me asking, she finally agreed to move back in with me—properly this time—just last month. We’re packing up her apartment after today’s game.

Since I’ve just recently convinced her to live with me, I know it’s too soon to propose.

But that hasn’t stopped me from buying a ring…last year.

There was a moment when we were sitting in her tiny-as-fuck apartment that I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

She didn’t have a TV—and refused to let me buy one for her—so we were curled up together on her twin-sized bed. She put her favorite record on, and we just lay there, listening to the music swell and fade.

It was so simple, so easy with us in that moment. Just lying there, together in silence, enjoying one another’s company without any expectations.

I felt like I could do that for the rest of my life, and I knew then she was going to be my forever.

“Dory?” I prompt when she doesn’t answer me.

“Yes.” Her tongue slides out to wet her lips. “Yes, I meant it.”

“You’d marry me?”

She arches a brow. “Is this you asking? Because this is so not what I expected your proposal to look like.”

“You’ve thought about it?”

“What girl hasn’t?”

“This isn’t me asking, but I am curious what your vision is.”

“I’m not answering that. It feels like cheating and creating my own proposal.”

“Fair enough, but it has been noted the soccer field is out of the question.”

“I knew you were a smart man.” She pecks a kiss to my cheek. “Now coach these damn kids. We’ve got a game to win.”

“We’re not done talking about this!” I call out as she saunters away, taking her spot on the bleachers where she sits for every single game. It doesn’t matter that she has a heavy workload with school and her job; she always makes certain she shows up for Kyrie.

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