Page 77 of Short Stack 3

“Why?”

“Because you’re the love of my life,” he says simply. “I want to feel a ring on your finger when I take your hand in mine. I want to introduce you as my husband when we go somewhere. I want to say the vows I never thought much of before, because those words suddenly have meaning now they’re about us. I want you to marry me because you’re fuckingitfor me. You always will be.” He stops and takes in a noisy gasp of air. “But you don’t have to,” he says, ever my fair Stan. “If you still don’t fancy marriage, it’s fine. I just needed to say it and —”

“Ask me again,” I say, my voice firm and fast.

“What?”

“Ask me again.”

“Will you marry me?” He bites his lip.

“Yes,” I say and hug him tight.

His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me — long kisses full of passion and love, hard kisses that bruise our lips, and gentle kisses where he makes love to my mouth. When he pulls away, my lips are sore.

“God, I love you,” I say softly. “I will marry you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything. I always said I’d only do marriage when my person was as serious about it as me, and you’re that. I know we’ll last because it’s us. I don’t have any other words.”

“You don’t need them,” he says softly. “You said yes.”

He kisses me again, and we slide down onto the rug. Hump huffs and wanders off. I hear his claws pattering away to the kitchen, but my attention is on Stan and his hands on me. His touch manages to be familiar and comforting while also being hotter than the surface of the sun.

When he pulls back, he fumbles in his jeans pocket. “I have something for you.”

I snort. “I’ll say.”

“Not that.” He pauses. “Well, of course that, but actually this first.”

He holds out his hand, and on his palm is a platinum wedding band.

“Oh mygod, Stan,” I breathe.

He smiles. “Hold out your hand.” I do as he says, and he puts it in my palm. “Feel inside it.”

Staring at him, I run my finger along the inside of the ring. Then I frown and look down. “It’s rough. Is that braille?”

He nods. “It’s a braille ring.”

“Babe, that’s the best thingever. What does it say?”

“Now, the reports coming in say you’re notterriblyreliable with reading braille…”

“It’s not like that’s front-page news.”

He chuckles. “But I think you might know this word.”

I concentrate and then swallow hard, feeling tears in my eyes. “Does it say ‘mine’?”

He nods, his beautiful face earnest in the light. “Because that’s what you are. You’re mine, Raff. Every beautiful, charming inch of you.”

I take his hand and put the ring in it. “Put it on,” I whisper and watch as he finds my hand. His long fingers trace my palm and unerringly find my ring finger. He slides on the ring, and I smile through my tears.

“Now you’re mine,” he whispers before dropping a kiss on the ring.

“Didn’t you know, Stanley? I’ve always been that.”

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