Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(71)
Author: M. Leighton

Much later, I’m getting antsy. I don’t have a watch on, but I know it has to be past midnight, yet the others show no signs of wearing down. I look at the edge of the trees and see the horse tied there.

Rising, I walk to Marissa where she’s talking with Ginger and I take her hand. Without a word, I tug her to her feet. She looks up at me questioningly, but she doesn’t protest. She just follows me across the sand, to the edge of the trees, to the horse that’s waiting for us.

I help her onto it, still neither of us speaking. I climb on behind her and guide the horse slowly along the path, the one I memorized today.

We make our way through the lush forest, uphill until we reach the clearing. A white blanket is laid out in the grass. The red rose petals strewn across it would be visible even if the moon weren’t bright and full. The dozen or so candles lit and set around the perimeter see to that.

They flicker in the light breeze as I dismount and help Marissa down. I tie the horse to a tree and take Marissa by the hand to lead her to the blanket. We stand facing each other for a long while before I turn her toward the ocean. I step up behind her, wrapping my arms around her and folding her body in close to mine, enjoying the view over her shoulder and the smell of her hair.

The moon is reflected on the water, laughter can be heard from the beach below, and, off in the distance, I can see our boat floating on the gentle waves of the calm water.

“This night is just about the perfect way to end the last few months.”

“It’s been wonderful.”

“No regrets?” I ask, resisting the urge to hold my breath until she answers.

“Are you crazy? I’ve never been happier.”

“You don’t miss your job or your friends or your family?”

“I have everything I need right here,” she says softly. She tilts her head to the side to glance at me. I kiss the tip of her nose.

I feel an intense relief already. She never talks about her previous life. And I never ask. Until now.

Step two, check.

“See that boat out there?” It’s the only one visible from where we are.

“You mean your boat?”

“No, I mean our boat.”

“Well, just because I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time in the captain’s bedroom doesn’t make it mine,” she teases.

“No, but the ownership papers do.” She leans away enough that she can turn to face me. “A few weeks ago, I had the title transferred into both our names. Well, sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

“Well, it’s titled to Mr. and Mrs. Nash Davenport.”

I hear Marissa’s hushed gasp. “And wh-why would you do that?” Her voice is breathy.

“Because I want my wife to know that she is a part of me, a part of my life, a part of everything I have and everything I am. All she has to do now is agree to marry me.”

Reaching inside my pocket, I pull out the ring that’s been burning a hole in my clothes for almost two months now while I’ve tried to find the perfect place to propose. Dropping to one knee, I take Marissa’s shaking left hand in mine.

Looking up at her, at the face I still dream about and the eyes that melt my heart, I feel the nerves disappear. I had wondered if there was any chance she’d say no. But looking at her now, the love she has for me bathing me as openly and completely as the huge moon above, I know she’s already mine. And I’m already hers. I have been since the first time I kissed her on a balcony in New Orleans, and I will be until the day someone puts my body into the ground.

“Please say you’ll be my wife. I want you tied to me in every way a man can be tied to the woman he loves. I can’t live without you and I never want to try. Share the boat with me. Share your life with me. If you will, I promise to keep you safe and happy every day for as long as I draw breath.”

She doesn’t say yes, but I’m assuming she means it when she pushes her finger into the engagement ring I’m holding. About two seconds after that, she bursts into tears and drops to her knees, throwing her arms around my neck.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“Yes,” she cries.

There are fireworks. Not on the horizon or ones that can be seen with the naked eye, but they’re there nonetheless. In all the places that matter, all the places that I can feel. “Welcome to our future, Mrs. Davenport.”

“I love you,” she mumbles into my neck.

“I love you, too, baby.”

And I do. More than anything.

The End