Page 157 of Gold Rush

I kiss her, then ask, “Now you want to be carried? What happened to put me down?”

She shrugs a shoulder. More blonde hair spills across my blue shirt. “Turns out, I like you taking care of me. Because I’m not scared you’ll let me down. Ever.”

I scoop her up and walk out of the bathroom. “This is good practice anyway.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “For what?”

“Isn’t this the big wedding-night move?”

“I guess, but we’re not actually engaged.”

“Says who?”

“Uh, you?”

I set her down on the mattress, taking a seat on the edge beside her. “I didn’t say that.”

“It was strongly implied by your reaction on Sunday.”

“Well, you sort of commandeered the moment. I hadn’t had a chance to fly you to Paris and kneel on a bed of peanut shells, then toast to our future with pickle juice.”

She snorts. “Sounds romantic.”

“I know you, Florence. I know you would hate every second of a showy proposal, then go into anaphylactic shock. Which is why I was planning to give you the ring I bought here, in our home, with Finch as the only witness, then celebrate at dinner with your family.”

“You bought a ring?” she whispers.

I nod. “Yesterday. I’d been putting it off before, and I figured out—well, Perry helped me figure out—why.”

“Perry? Your cousin? You talked to him?”

“Yeah. I talked to him. And it wasn’t incredibly awkward, so that was a nice change. I needed advice, and Kit … well, Kit wasn’t an option.”

“Is everything okay between you two?” Rory asks quietly.

“Yeah. We just—he was confused why I didn’t tell you about the foundation.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the foundation?”

I exhale. “I didn’t want you to agree to pretend for some noble, charitable purpose. I wanted you to agree to it for … me.”

Rory sits up, resting her chin on my shoulder. “I did since my dad was the one who told me about the noble, charitable purpose.”

I smile. “I know. I must be awfully charming.”

“And modest.”

“I want to help with the foundation.”

“I’d love that,” I say.

We smile at each other.

“Can I see the ring?”

“There’s no statute of limitations on it or anything. We can wait⁠—”

Rory shoves my shoulder, then lies back down. “Go get it, Flynn.”