Page 122 of Let Me Love You (Excess All Areas 5)

Love her.

Actually propose … will you marry me, or I’d be honoured if you’d become my wife (decide in the moment)

He took a breath as the door blew open. “Hey, sweetheart. Alex said he needed to borrow your brown belt.” She headed to the case, lifting up clothes still in there. She’d told him all about the dress she was wearing. Plunge neck and something about a slit, but all he could see was her. Bright eyes, flushed cheeks, smiling. “Did you even bring it, because I thought I saw it on the bed when—”

“Marry me, Chay,” he said.

She spun around and looked at him, then over to the door, as if she was being pranked. Words he’d planned disappeared as he dropped down to one knee and pulled the ring from his pocket. “It’s only ever been you, babe. From the moment we met, well, not immediately because, you know, you were eleven. But you know what I mean. Shit, I’m messing this up. I’ve only ever wanted you. And I am so lucky you let me love you, Chaya Tobias. Will you do me the honour of being my wife and taking me as your husband?”

She placed her forefingers beneath her eyes. “You can’t make me cry when I’m wearing this much mascara.”

He grinned, stood, and walked over to her. Using the cuff of his suit jacket, he dried her tears. “Is that a yes?” He cupped her cheek.

“Yes, Ben. It’s a yes. To all of it.”

Their lips met, a messy kiss with smiles and passion.

“I love you,” he said, finally.

He took her hand and slid the ring on it, grateful he’d thought to sneak one of her rings with him went he went to purchase it. It fit perfectly. Was strong, brilliant, and timeless.

Just like the two of them.

EPILOGUE TWO: NAN

Rhoda Palmer stood at the top of the aisle, wondering how on earth her life had turned out like this. And it wasn’t just the fact she now knew a lovely drag queen who’d made her dress, and a transexual woman called Dylan who had helped touch up her make-up so she’d be ready to sing.

Pat sat next to an older musician from the Halle Orchestra. He was telling her a story, and her daughter was laughing in a way she hadn’t seen in years. Rhoda had no idea where that bastard of a man who had been her former son-in-law was, but she wouldn’t mind if rats snuck into his bed one night and gnawed his balls off. She knew it had cost Ben and Alex greatly to pay him off, but it was worth every single penny.

Her precious little Alex chatted animatedly with Ben. The two of them had always had each other’s back, and she was convinced God had known what he was doing when he made both of them. And while the rest of the world saw them as rock stars, to her, they were precious personified.

She looked at Alex and wondered how anyone could not love his kind heart and Labrador-puppy energy. He danced to some song that was playing, looking less and less like a nervous groom and more and more like the happiest man on the planet.

And then, there was Ben, her fixer, the one made of putty who shaped himself around others so they felt safe in his care. His malleable heart had been the safe landing ground for everyone else. One look at Chaya’s face told Rhoda she’d said yes, but they’d dashed to the wedding set up with minutes to spare, and she’d not been able to congratulate the two of them yet. When Chaya moved a lock of hair from her face, her ring sparkled, just like she did.

Zale let out a squeal and she looked over to her protector, Luke, who simply sat watching his fiancée, Willow, bounce their little boy on her knee. He looked…starstruck. Like a man who realised all his good luck and fortune was sitting on the chair next to him. She’d babysat for them two nights earlier. Just her and Zale had a little dance party to some Nolan Sisters and Elton John because it was never too early to start teaching him that Nan’s was a safe place to have fun, to be silly, to express who you were.

Next to Luke was her resilient Matt. Izabel’s head rested on Matt’s shoulder, shoulders that had carried the burden of Rhoda’s own mistakes. He muttered something to Iz, and she laughed.

“What are you nosing at, Nan?” Jase said, her cinnamon bun appearing next to her.

“Just looking at you lot and thinking how nice you scrub up.”

Jase laughed. “We’re really lowkey glam, yeah?”

Nan ran her finger over the satiny red fabric of his lapel. “Yeah, but you can pull it off.” Then, she began to laugh. “We look a bit like a Christmas tree, you in all that red and me in green sequins.”

Jase looked down at their outfits and laughed. “Truth, Nan. But we look pretty fucking amazing. Are you ready to sing? You know, if you do this for Alex, you’ll have to do this for all of us.”

“When have I ever done something for one of you without doing it for all of you?”

“In that case, can I pick Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” before anyone else does, because it’s all I can think of when I look at her?” Jase’s eyes were on Cerys as he spoke. She wasn’t meant to be doing the sound for the day. Alex had hired someone. But Cerys had been unhappy with the sound quality. And she’d drifted over there. Then, her father, legendary producer Jimmy Bexter, followed her. Now, wires and cables were being messed with.

She looked back at Jase, who seemed to have lost track of what they were talking about. The love in his eyes reassured her that the grandchild whose heart had been most broken was now fully healed.

She tapped his cheek. “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll sing that for you.”

Jase glanced back to her and grinned, the smile that always got him whatever he wanted. “Thanks, Nan.”

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