Page 200 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“I am happy.”
“You deserve it.”
She refills her glass and heads back into the fray, but not before squeezing my shoulder.
The evening passes in a blur of food and laughter. I help serve dinner, floating between groups, pouring wine, listening to Grayson’s ridiculous story about a broken stick and a mascot that apparently terrorized him for three periods.
For the first time in my professional life, I don’t feel like an outsider in a man’s world. This is my world too. The strategy, planning, and wins are all mine. I’m not hiding behind being perfect. I’m just being myself.
Hunter catches my eye from across the room where he’s deep in conversation with Ryan about defensive positioning. The look he gives me makes my knees feel weak and my stomach flip in the best possible way.
After everyone leaves and we’ve cleaned up the worst of the mess, we collapse onto the couch together. I’m curled against his side, my feet tucked under me, feeling pleasantly tired and wine-warm.
“That was fun.” I say.
“Yeah, it was. I enjoy having everyone here.”
“Me too. It felt like...”
“Like what?”
“Like home. Like family.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm.
“Juliet?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to marry you.”
The words hang in the air between us, simple and profound at the same time.
“Is that a proposal?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light even though my heart is racing.
“It’s a statement of intent. The proposal will be better. I promise.”
“Will it involve my ring?”
“Unless you want a bigger one. I’ll get you the biggest fucking ring you’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t need the biggest ring, Hunter. I just need you.”
“You’ve got me. Forever. There’s no getting rid of me, Monroe.”
I bite my lip, her eyes sparkling. “Forever sounds pretty good.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, both of us processing the weight of what we’ve just said to each other.
Hux heaves a sigh. “I want a house.”
“What kind of house?” We’ve talked about moving eventually, but we haven’t really made any plans.
“Arealone. With a yard. And space! And lots and lots of privacy. I want to fuck my wife and have her scream my name with no nosy neighbors poking their heads over the fence.”
“Hux!” I say, poking him in the ribs. “Besides, I like this place.”
“Monroe.” He catches my fingers and turns my hand over to kiss my palm. “I like this place too. But I want something that’s just ours. Something no one else has ever lived in.”
