Page 89 of Love.V2
I blinked at the ring, then him. Then the ring again. The sob turned into a rock lodged in my throat. “What?” He’d been holding onto this thing for eight years? “What?”I repeated, because it seemed so inconceivable.
He laughed, but it sounded like sandpaper. He rubbed a shaking palm over his jeans, carefully setting the ring on the table between us. “You brought so much color into my life, Tess. From the very first moment you tapped that keg, I knew you were the one. But then I got a little up in my head, I guess. We were really young, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted something more traditional, you know?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know. If there was a ring in the world more perfect than this one, I didn’t know of its existence.
“So then, I saw this one.” He produced another tiny velvet box. Inside was a gorgeous solitaire diamond in a platinum setting with tiny baguette diamonds on either side.
“What?” I gasped. That seemed to be the only word left in my vocabulary. Because really…what?
Dylan set it next to the first. “I had to save for a while to buy it, just out of college. Neither of us was making anything at all, but I thought it would look beautiful on your hand. But then you lost your mom, and I know that was a lot. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you couldn’t grieve for her the way you needed. I didn’t want to distract from that.”
“Okay…” I could understand that. Kind of.
“And I saw this one on a trip to New York, right after I got that first big promotion at Worther.” He placed another ring on the table. A brilliant sapphire set in gold. It was followed by another—a diamond in rose gold with a gorgeous halo surrounding the cushion cut. An art déco style emerald, the band studded with rubies. A hexagonal onyx stone with three diamonds trailing asymmetrically down the side of a glowing, brassy gold band.
I stared at them all, lined up in their multi-hued boxes on my scratched, second-hand coffee table. I wanted to snatch them up and find them somewhere better to sit. They were stunning. Every single one.
“I always thought I had the one. But then things kept changing. The only thing that ever stayed the same was how much I loved you, but I didn’t…feel like I had the right thing to offer yet.”
My lips wobbled, a tear sliding down my cheek. This was too much. I needed to call Lainey. A person’s heart wasn’t meant to squeeze and swoop like this. “Dylan.” My voice came out as a whisper and I had to swallow, reaching out to squeeze his arm to give us both strength. “You could have given me a paperclip and I would have been the happiest person in the world.”
More tears escaped. Dylan’s face scrunched, too. “I know that now. But you don’t deserve a paperclip, Tess. You deserve it all. All of me. My best and my worst. The good and the bad. Every moment, every phase. I want to be there for it, even if I fall short.”
“You could never. You’re so tall.” My stupid joke was a squeak, because I was actively sobbing now, arms hugging my midsection asDylan kneeled before me. He laughed, even as he hastily wiped his eyes.
“Theresa Lynn, I have wanted to marry you since the first day I met you. It hasn’t gone away. Not when we were together, and not when we were apart. Please, please tell me you’ll marry me. I know we’re still working through things together, and we don’t have to have the wedding soo-OON!”
I tackled him to the ground, and he caught me before we could both tumble onto the rug. When I grabbed his face, it was sloppy, taking me a few tries to locate his mouth. A breathy sob caught in my throat as I kissed him. “Yes.”
His head jerked off the floor, banging into my face. “Yes? Fuck, sorry.Yes?”
“Yes!” I laughed, pressing my lips into his again and again as he tried to sit up to examine my nose. “I will marry you tomorrow, or in fifty years. Yes.”
When he finally struggled upright, I sat in his lap, holding his precious head so I could look into his eyes. “I know now; you’ve shown me that we can get through anything together. And more importantly, Iwantto get through it with you. I choose to do all of it with you. The good and the bad. Everything in between.”
“Tuesdays?” he whispered, finally abandoning my nose to skim his thumb across my jaw.
“Every Tuesday we have left, I want to spend it with you.”
He groaned when he captured my mouth with his, our tongues tangling together. He tasted like the salt from our tears and the sweet, heart-wrenching love that filled every inch of my body. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He cupped my head to draw me closer. Eventually, our frenzied kissing calmed, and he pulled back, placing lingering, gentle pecks onto my nose, eyelids, cheeks, lips, jaw, neck.
“So…”
“So…?” I echoed, eyes fluttering at his attention. I could stay like this, in his arms, forever.
“Which one do you want?”
I blinked my eyes open, staring at him with a hazy smile on my face. “Which one?”
“Which ring, Angel?” He swept my hair back, turning us so I had an unimpeded view of the jewelry on the table. My eyes glanced from box to box.
“Ihave to pick?” Impossible. Every one of them was perfect in its own way. A different representation of our relationship—of me—over the years.
“They’re yours.”
