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Placing the glass down, Cornell left Benton at the bar and moved purposefully across the room, weaving in and out of the crowd. He came beside Ali, placing his hand over hers that held the back of a chair.
“One more dance.”
Ali turned her head to him. “Last one?”
Yes, he thought to say, eager to steal her away and up to the room, even though he was still plagued by performance anxiety. But Cornell couldn’t and had to force his mouth closed, wondering how it was possible in such low lighting for Ali to glow, to radiate. He could see every tiny part of her—a chicken pox scar on her chin, the nearly iridescent freckles on her nose, and an eyelash that had fallen to her cheek. With his free hand, Cornell pressed his thumb gently to her skin, stealing the lone lash and blowing it off his finger, his breath sprinkling the room with all the silent wishes he was determined to make come true for them both.
Cornell rubbed the ring finger of her left hand before he grasped it, tugging her against him. “Nah,” he said, kissing her softly. “The first of a million last ones.”
* * *
“Keep them closed,” Cornell ordered as he led Ali from the elevator.
Ali yelped when she bumped her hip against the door. “Are you trying to kill me? I’ve been wearing heels for hours.”
They reached the room. “Okay, stop. But keep them closed.” Cornell slid the key into the lock, peeking inside. Good. They got it right. He would need to leave another tip for the concierge. Propping the door open with his foot, he guided Ali through the doorway and into the middle of the room.
“Alright,” Cornell said before leaning against the wall. “Open.”
From where he stood, Cornell couldn’t see Ali’s face. He could only see her body—in that dress—the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips where the fabric clung. Ali’s head turned, slowly scanning the room, taking in all the low-lit, flameless votive candles scattered amongst it.
“What… you did this?” she asked, still not looking at him.
“No. George at the front desk did.”
“There must be hundreds of candles.”
“Four hundred and fifty-three,” Cornell said as Ali turned. “One for every day that’s passed since you grabbed me by my face and changed my world.”
Ali’s mouth parted slightly, and her eyes left his to dart around the room once more.
“A little light can go a long way when you add it up,” Cornell said, bending to pick up a votive and pressing the button on the bottom to turn it off. “There’s still a lot of light even when one or two go out. More good days than bad.”
There had been an emotional, painful breakup. But all the collective pain of their time apart didn’t compare, in the slightest, to their darkest moment. Ali breaking his heart didn’t hold a candle to the breaking of her spiritunder Cornell’s watch.
“We’ve had a lot of light, Ali. And you know what? Even if we didn’t, even if there were more shitty days than good ones, we have each other.” Cornell paused, letting out a nervous breath. “You’re all the light I need to see the good things in the dark.”
Ali reached out to squeeze his hand.
“What I see right now is the most beautiful woman in the world. The sexiest,” he added, dropping his voice. “And the strongest person I know.”
There was a shudder to Ali’s shoulders. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. I see everything I love when I look at you right here. Past, present, future. That girl I met back at the bar, that girl I chased, my friend, the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, and the only mother I’d ever want for my kids.”
On the surface, the fancy night of dancing and a several-course meal, as well as the way Ali’s eyes sparkled in the twinkling room as she looked at him, Cornell’s profession would have been a prime proposal opportunity. But his mother’s ring—Ali’s ring—was still tucked away safely at home, waiting for its moment. Not here, Cornell thought, Not now. There was still a wall between them. One laid by a monster and reinforced by each other out of fear.
When Cornell asked Ali for forever, there couldn’t be any more space between them.
And they were close, he could nearly taste it. Because the tears in Ali’s eyes finally didn’t make Cornell sad, upset, or eager to wipe them away. Instead, he cupped her cheek, tilting her head up as if to hold them there for just a moment longer as they stood in silence, each glistening tear telling him more than Ali could ever say or Cornell could bear to hear.
Her glimmering eyes didn’t say, “I’m scared.” They told Cornell, “I’m so happy it’s you here.”
I swear to God I’m not going to fuck this up. I’m not going to fuck this up.
Ali pressed her hands to his chest, slowly pushing the tuxedo jacket off. “I’m nervous,” Ali whispered. “And not because I’m afraid.” Cornell shrugged out of the jacket, and she tossed it onto a chair. “I don’t know why it feels different. It’s like you’re giving me—”
“Butterflies?” Cornell asked, running a finger up her bare arm.
