Page 28 of Hooked on Dallas
“Wonderful,” I say. We lay there for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company. Dallas and I have such an easy chemistry. We can spend hours together talking, or be perfectly content saying nothing at all. He is the yin to my yang, balancing my Type A tendencies with his laid-back approach to life.
Dallas sits up with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. I admire the lean muscles of his torso, a surge of affection washing over me. Here is a man who could have any woman he wanted, yet he spends his Saturday mornings with me.
“I’m going to make some coffee,” he says, leaning down to kiss me again. “Want some?”
I grin up at him, reaching up to run a hand through his already messy bedhead. “Please. And maybe some toast too?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Toast too, huh? Aren’t we demanding?”
This is bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. And I never want it to end.
As he heads downstairs, I notice something strange in the pocket of his discarded jeans—a small velvet box. Could it be?
I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought.
Still, my curiosity gets the better of me. I slide out of bed and creep over to his jeans, slowly reaching into the pocket. My fingers close around a familiar shape. I gingerly lift out the box, flipping it open to reveal a glittering diamond ring.
My breath catches in my throat. This isn’t just any ring; it is utterly breathtaking. Dallas has impeccable taste, and he must have spared no expense on this.
Which can only mean one thing. He is going to propose.
I slide the ring back into his pocket, my hands trembling. Marriage. To Dallas. The thought fills me with equal parts delight and panic. Our relationship is the most fulfilling one I’ve ever known, but am I ready to commit my life to another person?
I am still standing there, frozen in place, when he comes back upstairs. One look at my face and he knows. His expression turns sheepish as he runs a hand through his hair.
“You found the ring,” he says. My heart thuds in my chest as he sinks down on one knee, gazing up at me with eyes full of love and tenderness.
“Laura Stevens, will you marry me?”
I stare at him, overwhelmed with emotion. “Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”
Dallas’s face lights up with joy. He surges to his feet and envelopes me in a warm hug, spinning me around. I cling to him, laughing and crying all at once.
When he sets me down, he takes the ring from his pocket and slides it onto my finger. It is a perfect fit.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs, cupping my face in his hands. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“I love you too,” I say. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
We sit down on the edge of the bed, eager to plan our future together. “A small wedding would be perfect,” I say. “Just close friends and family. Nothing too fancy.”
He nods. “I agree. A big wedding isn’t important to me. All I care about is making you my wife.”
I laugh, filled with joy and gratitude at finding a man who understands and supports me. Our future is bright, and I can’t wait to embark on the adventure of marriage together.
After going to the exhibit, we drive to the courthouse. It is a brick building that looks about as romantic as a DMV, but I don’t care. I am marrying the love of my life, and that is all that matters.
We walk through the heavy wooden doors, his arm wrapped around my waist. The courthouse is dim and stuffy, with ugly green carpeting and fluorescent lights that buzzes faintly overhead. A few people mill around, waiting in various lines.
He wrinkles his nose. “Not exactly the wedding of your dreams, is it?”
I laugh and squeeze his hand. “Every place is magical when I’m with you.”
His eyes soften. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”
“Nonsense,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. “We’re made for each other.”
After waiting in line for what seems like hours, we reach the front. The clerk looked bored as she shuffles through a stack of papers. “Name?” she asks in a monotone voice.
