Page 71 of Ropers Can't Tie Knots
“I had this made because you’re not a guy who deserves a mass-produced ring. It’s one of a kind, just like you.” He runs his hand through his hair, and Mack steps over to nose us, almost knocking me over. “Gabe, will you marry me again? This time, because I know what it feels like to have my heart walk outside my body, and I’d like to walk alongside it with you forever.”
That’s the most romantic thing he’s ever said to me, and it’s almost hard to believe this is happening right now.
“Hunter…that’s incredibly sweet.”
“I actually read it on a Valentine’s card, and hoped I didn’t forget when I got to this part. So…will you marry me, Gabe? I’m not perfect, but we’re perfect for each other.”
I snort-laugh, his honesty so entirely Hunter. “I will marry you every time you ask me. Yes, Hunter. It’s a yes, and the next few months can’t pass fast enough.”
He slides the ring on my finger after removing the first one and places it in the box. “I love you, Gabe.” He kisses me there in the sand of the ring, and I’m so happy I could burst. Anxiety can kiss my fucking ass. I kiss him back until we lose our balance and fall into the sand, breathless and laughing.
“We should probably get ready for that dinner and dancing,” he whispers.
“We should.”
Neither of us moves to get up, smiling at each other like two kids in love.
And I kiss him again because it’s hard to stop.
“Thank you for doing this.”
Hunter smiles, almost shy, and stands while helping me up.
“I’ll always do whatever it takes for you, Gabe. I may not always get it right, but I’ll always do it.” He takes my chin in his hand. “A very intelligent man told me to communicate. Please don’t let me make you feel like that again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
twenty
Hunter
Ican’t say I’m happy to be sitting in the lawyer’s office today.
I want to remain positive, but I have my doubts this visit will bring good news.
The door to his office opens, and Mason Caldwell strides in with a tight smile on his face.
“Hunter.” He nods. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Well, your voicemail didn’t leave me any choice, Caldwell. Please tell me this isn’t as bad as it is in my head.”
How am I going to break any kind of bad news to Gabe?
“Hopefully not.” He fidgets with the pen, and I notice a bead of sweat on his brow. “The last payment of the residual trust can’t be made if we continue to file the divorce. I should’ve told you earlier, but I was…afraid you’d still follow through with your threat.”
I feel like a total asshole for making him sweat, literally, like this. But I thought we had a good conversation last time, and he understood I’d never out him like that. Essentially, I called my bluff to ease his mind.
“Listen, Caldwell…I was out of line to threaten you like that, and I’m sorry for being the source of that stress.” he nods and darts his gaze to the desk. “I promised I wouldn’t make it public, and I meant it. I was just…fucking angry, okay? Living under my grandfather’s thumb and being his yes man for so long, I just…fuck…I just wanted to be done with it all.” Heaving a breath, resigned that this won’t be as smooth as I hoped, I can only offer my regrets. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too, but thank you for that. Your grandfather paid me well, and part of this is my fault.”
“I know how he was. You don’t have to explain. So what happens now?”
Caldwell attempts a smile and opens the folder he carried in. “You have options. You can stay married and receive the last payment according to the trust stipulations, or you can continue with the divorce, and the funds go to the anti-LGBTQ+ organization he named. I should have called you earlier to let you know I delayed filing the divorce, but I hoped I could try to sneak it by the partners.”
“I don’t want that sorry excuse for a charity to get a dime. That’s not an option, Caldwell.” Running a hand through my hair, I huff a breath. Gabe is going to hate this. I made him sign those papers and break his heart, and it was all for nothing. God, I’m an asshole.
“You can still divorce after a year and remarry,” he offers.
