Page 98 of Slots & Sticks
I nod, unsure where this is going.
His voice drops, low and steady. “That was the same day I realized I’d love you for the rest of my life. That it felt good to plan a future.”
For a second, I think I must have misheard him. The room feels too still, too golden. My blood turns to liquid heat.
“You—what?” I whisper.
Camden slides something small and black onto the table—a little box, perfectly square. The kind that makes every woman in a crowded restaurant suddenly forget their own name.
He doesn’t open it right away. Instead, he runs his thumb along the edge, looking at me the way he did at the lemonadestand when we were kids—like I hung the moon and he’s shocked I haven’t noticed.
“I booked this place months ago,” he says softly. “Before the accident. Before the hospital. Before we were even… us. I didn’t know if we’d still talk. I didn’t know if you’d ever see me that way.”
He smiles, small and sheepish. “But I knew that if I ever got lucky enough to sit across from you like this—if I ever got to make you laugh, or watch your eyes light up again—I’d want to do it somewhere worthy of you.”
My throat tightens. “Camden…”
He finally opens the box. The ring inside isn’t gaudy. A simple band, delicate but strong, with one perfect emerald-cut diamond that catches the light and tosses it back.
“I don’t need big crowds or grand gestures. I just need you.” His voice wavers slightly, and I realize he’s nervous—my calm, grounded Camden, trembling for once. “You once told me that everyone you’ve loved either left or broke you. I’m not leaving, Dot. Ever. You are my home.”
Every woman in that restaurant probably fell in love with him a little bit. Too bad—he’s already mine.
The tears I’ve been fighting all evening spill over. “God, you’re going to ruin my makeup.”
He laughs quietly, relief flickering in his eyes. “That a yes?”
“Let me think about it,” I tease, even though my voice breaks halfway through.
Camden pushes his chair back and kneels right there on the restaurant floor. There’s a collective gasp, the sound of champagne flutes clinking and whispers spreading. He doesn’t care. He’s not doing it for them.
“I love you, Dorothy Shaw,” he says, steady now. “Every version of you. The girl with the lemonade stand. The woman who saves stray dogs. The one who doesn’t know how incredibleshe is. I love all of you, and I always will. So… will you marry me?”
I’m crying too hard to speak. The room disappears—waiters, lights, everything.
I slide off my chair and kneel in front of him, face to face, the ring wedged between us. “I can’t believe you booked a table for a girl who didn’t even know she loved you yet.”
Cam grins through a shimmer of tears. “I had faith.”
My laugh breaks apart into a sob. “Then yes. A thousand times, yes.”
The room erupts in applause as he slips the ring onto my shaking hand. I don’t even notice the cheers or the camera flashes. It’s only Camden. The man who waited. The boy who always believed I was worth it.
He kisses me once, soft and certain, and whispers against my lips—
“Right on time.”
* * *
By the time we pull into the driveway of Camden’s condo, I’m staring at my left hand like it’s made of starlight. The ring winks back at me every time the streetlights pass, and it still doesn’t feel real.
When he kills the engine, I glance up. “So… we’re at my fiancé’s condo right now,” I say, testing the word. “Fiancé. Weird. Fancy. Feels like I should have an accent to say it properly.”
Camden smirks, stepping out and circling around to my door. “You could try a British one, but please don’t.”
He opens my door, and before I can move, he bends down and scoops me into his arms. Just lifts me clean off the ground.
“Cam!” I squeak. “What are you doing?”
