Page 269 of My Rules

“Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

“What do you mean?” I tease.

“Will you marry me?” She smiles up at me, all hopeful.

“What kind of marriage—”

“Blake,” she snaps, cutting me off, “don’t push your luck.”

I drop to my knees in front of her. “You took your damn time, woman.” I smirk.

She smiles. “Is that a yes?”

“That’s an abso-fucking-lutely.” I kiss her softly as I take her face in my hands. Our lips linger over each other’s as we bask in the moment.

“Oh ... just a minute.” I get up as I remember something. “Stay there.”

“What?” She frowns as she stays kneeling.

I take the stairs two at a time and run into the spare room and reach under the bed. I feel and feel ... Where is the fucking thing?

Got it.

I run back downstairs and open the ring box. Her yellow diamond rings sits proudly on display.

“Oh,” she gasps. “You told me you returned this.”

I take her hand and slide it onto her finger. “I never gave up on my dream of marrying you.”

Her eyes well with tears. “I love you, Blake Grayson.”

“I can tell by the marry-me lasagna.” I smile against her lips.

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?”

I chuckle. “We’re a match made in heaven already.”

Rebecca

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest smiles. “You may kiss your bride.”

Blake takes my face in his hands and kisses me as our friends and family all cheer.

We did it.

Husband and wife. We made it.

He takes my hand, and we make our way out of the church as everyone throws confetti.

We laugh and smile, take photos and bask in the glory.

We made it.

“Speech,” everyone calls.

Blake holds his hands up and stands, and I smile as I look up at him.

We had a traditional wedding, and now we’re at the reception. He looks so handsome in his black dinner suit.

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