Page 256 of Wait for Him

She wipes beneath her eyes with her free hand, and I wait until she’s looking at me again.

“I want the ordinary shit with you, Rose. I want to wake up next to you and argue about what we’re eating for dinner. I want your shit scattered through our house until I genuinely can’t remember which things belonged to me. I want holidays and bad days and boring Tuesdays. I want to sit beside you in hospital waiting rooms while this ridiculous family of ours keeps multiplying faster than any of us can keep track of.”

Her chin trembles.

“When life is fucking amazing, I want you there. When it hurts, I want you there. When we’re eighty years old and you’re still telling me I’m wrong about shit I know for a fact I’m right about, I want you there too.”

She laughs again, and I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles.

“And earlier today, you were very concerned that I hadn’t officially proposed yet.”

Her laugh comes out wet and shaky.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“And you love me.”

“So fucking much.”

“Good.”

I take a breath, and the joking part of me finally quiets because this is the sentence. The actual one.

“Because you were right. I skipped a step.”

I hold the ring up between us.

“So, Rosalie Bennett, I’m correcting my procedural error.”

She laughs hard enough that she has to wipe her face again, and I smile up at her while her eyes lock onto mine.

“Marry me, Rose.”

For a second, she just stares at me.

Then she nods once, twice, and before I can even get the ring onto her finger, she throws her arms around my neck.

I laugh as I catch her, one arm wrapping around her waist while I somehow manage not to launch the ring across the hospital room with the other.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.” She nods against my neck, holding me so tightly I can feel her tears against my skin. “Yes, Jackson. Yes. I’ll marry you.”

I bury my face against her neck and squeeze her tighter, laughing into her skin because if I try to say anything right now, there’s a very real chance I’m going to sound like Michael did when he came through the waiting-room doors.

Behind us, somebody makes a horrible choking sound.

I look over Rose’s shoulder, and Bennet is openly sobbing. Full fucking breakdown.

Rose pulls back laughing, and I finally take her left hand again. My fingers are shaking like hell now, which feels deeply unfair considering I made it through the speech without dropping anything.

“Hold still, dammit.” I slap her hand lightly.

“I am holding still.” She slaps mine right back.

“You’re vibrating.”

“I’m emotional.”