Page 119 of My Best Friend Is Broken
I stare at him, my wine-fuzzy brain trying to catch up with what just happened. Did we just... did he just... my heart starts doing something complicated in my chest, beating too fast and too hard like it’s trying to escape my ribcage.
“Worst proposal ever,” I whisper, somewhere between laughing and crying.
Nicky rolls his eyes, but I can see the smile tugging at his lips. “Should have guessed you’d be a stickler for tradition.”
And then he’s moving, pushing his chair back and dropping to one knee beside the table with a grace that suggests this wasn’t quite as spontaneous as the conversation made it seem. His hand goes to his pocket and emerges with a small velvet box that makes my breath catch in my throat.
This is happening. This is actually happening.
“Liam Walker,” he says, opening the box to reveal a simple silver band that catches the candlelight, “will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”
The tears hit me like a wave. Sudden, overwhelming, happy tears that blur my vision and make it hard to breathe. I’m crying, actually crying. Happy tears for a change. Crying in front of Nicky over a marriage proposal, and I should probably be embarrassed, but all I can feel is joy so pure and overwhelming it physically hurts.
“Is that a yes?” Nicky asks, and there’s uncertainty in his voice now, like maybe he’s worried the tears mean something else.
I grab the napkin from my lap and throw it at him. “Yes, you dufus! Of course it’s yes!”
He laughs, bright and relieved and beautiful, and then he’s standing and I’m standing and we’re kissing across the remains of our dinner, wine glasses nearly toppling and candles flickering dangerously as we reach for each other.
The kiss tastes like wine and tomato sauce and tears and happiness. His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing away the wetness on my cheeks, while my fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer like I can merge us into one person if I just hold tight enough.
“I love you,” I gasp when we finally break apart, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” he says, pressing kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, and my lips again. “God, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“The ring,” I say suddenly, remembering. “Put the ring on. Make it official.”
He laughs and retrieves the box from where it’s fallen beside his abandoned plate. His hands are shaking slightly as he takes out the ring. I notice that, notice how this strong, dangerous man is trembling with emotion, as he reaches for my left hand.
“It was my nonna’s,” he says as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly, like it was made for me. “She gave it to me years ago, told me to save it for someone special. Someone who would understand what family really means.”
I look down at the ring on my finger. Simple, elegant, carrying the weight of history and love. As I stare at it I feel something click into place. This is real. This is forever. Thisis Nicky choosing me, claiming me, promising to build a life together that goes far beyond just surviving day to day.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
“You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“Perfect for me, then.” He kisses me again, softer this time, tender and full of promise. “My fiancé. Liam Walker, soon to be Liam Ricci.”
The name sounds right in a way Walker never did. Like coming home after a long journey, like finally belonging somewhere. Liam Ricci. Part of a family that chose me rather than one I was born into by accident.
“When?” I ask, because now that this is happening, I want it to be official, want the paperwork and the ceremony and all the mundane legal recognition that comes with marriage.
“Whenever you want. Tomorrow, next month, next year, I don’t care as long as it happens.”
“Not tomorrow. I want to plan it properly, have people there who matter. Molly will kill us if we elope.”
“True. He’ll want to be involved in every detail, from the flowers to the font on the invitations.”
“And Dario will probably want to make it some big family affair.”
“Also true.” Nicky pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist. “But I don’t care about any of that. Big ceremony, small ceremony, registry office with two witnesses. As long as you’re there and you’re saying yes, nothing else matters.”
I rest my forehead against his, breathing in his familiar scent and trying to process the enormousness of what just happened. Engaged. We’re engaged. In a few months,maybe a year, I’ll be Liam Ricci, legally bound to this man in ways that can’t be easily undone.
The thought should be terrifying. Should make me want to run, to protect myself from the vulnerability of giving someone this much power over my life and happiness.
