Page 226 of Becoming Us
I didn’t even realize my hands had come up to cover my mouth. I just stood there, trembling, wide-eyed, trying to hold it all in.
My gaze found Holly again. She was crying now, openly, and smiling through it. She pointed to the stage.
So I looked.
And my knees nearly buckled.
There he was, Atticus King, standing beneath the glow of a hundred fairy lights, in a fucking tux, with that dimpled, nervous, absolutely radiant smile that had wrecked me a thousand times over.
His cheeks were flushed. His lips parted.
And then he sang.
Atticus King was standing on a stage, singing a Madonna song to me.
Right now. This was real.
His arms opened wide, face lit with something that looked like joy and reverence all at once, and he sang, “Let the choir sing.”
And they did.
A fucking honest-to-god choir stepped onto the stage behind him like magic, filing in from the shadows, their voices rising in perfect harmony. Wrapping around him, around me, around this moment like a goddamn spell.
All around the garden, people joined in—smiling, swaying, singing like they’d been rehearsing for weeks. Like this wasn’t the most surreal thing that had ever happened to me.
A choked laugh escaped my throat, fragile and breathless. My vision blurred completely, and I didn’t even try to stop it. I couldn’t look away from him.
He climbed down the steps of the stage with slow, steady steps, locking eyes with me.
His timing was perfect. Like it always was. The choir belted out, “Down on my knees,” and he dropped to one. Right there, in front of me, in the middle of this enchanted, lily-covered garden. With the whole world watching. With my whole world singing.
My lips parted to say something, anything—but I froze.
He was already reaching into his pocket, already holding out a small black box. Opening it. Showing me the single golden band inside, so simple it was stupidly perfect.
My chest cracked wide open.
I dropped to my knees, threw my arms around his neck, and held him tight.
“Yes.” The word shuddered out of me before I could stop it.
He laughed, warm and a little breathless, arms locking around my back. “Let me ask first,” he said against my shoulder.
I pulled back just enough to see his face. “It’s always going to be yes, Atty.” My voice was wrecked, raw with a love too vast to hold back.
His hands cupped my cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears I hadn’t noticed were falling. He leaned in, resting his forehead gently against mine. “Listen to me, okay?”
And I nodded, barely holding it together. Barely believing any of this was real.
“I’ve told you this once before,” Atty said, voice shaking, “but there’s nothing like being loved by you, Noah.”
His eyes, glassy and unguarded, never left mine.
“Every single day, you make me feel like the most important person in the world. You see me. You hear me. You understand me in ways I never thought were possible. You let me have my silences. You let me be myself.”
He took in a shaky breath.
“And most days, I find myself wondering how I can make you feel that love too—the kind of love you give away so freely.”
