“Keep me telling me that. I need it.” His jaw does the rigid thing and for a moment he turns away. When he looks back at me, there’s a fire, a passion in his eyes that burns right through me. I am ash. And he is still everything. “You have no idea how fucking grateful I am for it, for you still being here even after I hurt you and messed things up. Because maybe, just maybe, it means you’re as crazy about me as I am about you. And if that’s the case, then we’re definitely going to get through this.”
I hang my head. Now my damn throat is tight and sore.
“Beloved?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Wife?” he asks softly.
“Don’t call me that either.” My nose is not running. There’s just something awkward going on in there. I rub it with the back of my hand like a four-year-old because I’m stylish like that.
“But I want to call you that. I’ve wanted to call you that since I met you,” he says, reaching into the coat pocket of his leather jacket. “Don’t freak out, but I panicked and did something.”
Oh, no. “What?”
A black Harry Winston ring box is placed on the couch between us. He draws back the two halves of the top of the little box, exposing a large square solitaire diamond ring set in a platinum band. It sparkles and shines and generally blows my mind.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
“I know I can’t throw money at this problem and fix it.” He picks up my hand, sliding the ring on the relevant finger. “This isn’t me buying you. It’s me giving you me.”
“Oh my God.”
“Would you do me the honor of allowing me to be your husband?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You can’t…we shouldn’t…Beck.”
“You don’t need to answer right now.”
“If we have any chance at all then we need to rebuild the foundations of our relationship properly this time. Fix the trust issues between us and have total honesty. You can’t just jump ahead like this.”
He just stares at me, his gaze sober.
“Did you even listen to me when I said we needed to take it slow like a hundred times?”
“Yes,” he says. “But I didn’t agree.”
“Plainly!”
“You can trust me, Alice. I swear it.”
I sniffle. “And this ring is ridiculous.”
“It wasn’t the biggest one they had. It was just the best quality diamond. Because that’s what you are, a diamond.” His grip firms on my hand, not letting go. “Though it is bigger than anything Grandma has because I felt that was important for various reasons.”
“I only just moved into the other bedroom.”
“Don’t worry about that. Besides, sleeping without you made me fucking miserable. I’m not even sure I could have stopped myself from trying to be near you again. I’d probably sleep halfway up the damn stairs so I wasn’t breaking your terms,” he confesses. “Question: Were you planning on breaking up with me any time soon?”
I frown. “No. You know that.”
“Okay. Another question: Do you love me?”
“Beck.” My spine curves as if I’m caving in on myself. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do. I think you’re just worried that if you say it you’re going to get hurt again. But I’m promising you, that is never going to happen.” He waits and watches, still and patient. Like this conversation, me hesitating, could go on forever and he’d never move an inch. Not until he gets his answer. The stubborn, beautiful, heartbreaking boy who I am absolutely crazy about. “Do you love me, Alice?”
“Fine,” I growl. “Yes.”
“Good. That’s good.” And he’s holding back a smile. I can see it.
For fuck’s sake, I’m crying again. I’m so sick of crying. But at least they’re not sad tears. They’re more along the lines of what the hell just happened tears. When it comes to him, I never stood a chance. This is a fact.
“It’s okay. Come here,” says Beck, basically grabbing me and dragging me onto his lap. Things are knocked over on the table. Most noticeably the green drink of death. But none of it matters. Big hands cup my face, thumbs wiping away the tears. “Emma said you’re an ugly crier, but I think you’re lovely. She’s just jealous. You know how she gets.”
“Your family…”
“Our family.” He stops. “Oh, that reminds me, I’ve got some major sucking up to do to your mother. Probably your dad too, yeah?”
“I haven’t told them what happened. But it wouldn’t hurt.”
He nods. “I’m up to the task. You love me. I can do anything.”
I just smile. “What about your grandmother?”
“She can either get with the program or get lost. I am not messing around.” He tucks a strand of hair tenderly behind my ear with a satisfied smile. “How do you feel about getting married tonight?”
“No. Absolutely not. I haven’t even said yes to that yet.”
He scowls, the indent appearing between his brows. “But it was implied, right? And what if you change your mind?”
“I’m not going to change my mind. I love you.”
“And we’ll get married eventually,” he demands, gaze narrowed. “Promise me.”
“Yes, okay, I promise. If you keep seeing the therapist and we keep working on things and everything goes all right.”
“Agreed. Though that’s a lot of conditions.”
“Deal with it.”
And his mouth is on mine, kissing me stupid. Taking my tears and my fears and everything in between. It’s so good, getting my hands on him, reveling the taste and the feel of him. His breath and mine are the same and for some reason it feels like it’s been forever and a day since we were like this. Our tongues duel and my fingers in his hair. His are meanwhile slipping beneath my tee, pressing into my back, urging me closer. The sensible thing is to straddle him. To get us lined up in all the ways that matter. Physically at least. I’m done with doubt and despair. We’re going to work this out one way or another. Right now we just need to be together. He strokes my back, my shoulders, my neck. It seems like his hands are everywhere, settling me alight. Meanwhile, the growing hardness in his pants is fast turning into nirvana against my sadly clad crotch.
Who even invented clothing? What a loser.
“What do you want?” he says, voice harsh and urgent.
“You.”
The smile he gives me. It just might be my new favorite. So hot and hungry. “Get undressed, beloved.”
Best damn idea ever. And I nod because I’m not an idiot when it matters. However, I do need him to steady my hips as I attempt to stand and tear off my top and bra at the same time. Multitasking in this sort of situation is a trial. Especially once hormones and urgency come out to play. Everything needs to be faster, quicker, now. Not to say making love slow and gentle isn’t nice and sweet. We should definitely do it later. Though fucking definitely has a time and a place. Like here and now.
Our fumbling urgent hands are all over each other. With Beck, being the perfect gentleman, ripping open the button on my jeans and so on. Both jeans and underwear are soon being dragged down my legs. In a feat of great dexterity, I step out of them without falling on my ass. Yes. Naked. Only there’s a problem.