Page 53 of Claimed in the Wylde
"Jake—"
"Let me finish." He takes both my hands. "You built something incredible, and you’ve made me the happiest man in the entire world."
My eyes are stinging. The snowflakes are falling faster now, catching in his dark hair, melting on his shoulders.
"I love you, Madison. I love your sass and your wit and your perfect cinnamon rolls and the way you sing off-key when you think no one's listening. I love how you make everyone around you feel lighter. I love that you chose this town, and I love that you chose me, and I want to spend the rest of my life being worthy of that choice."
He reaches into his coat pocket.
My heart stops.
"I was going to wait until Christmas," he says, pulling out a small velvet box. "But then I thought about standing in this spot with you, with the snow falling and the aspens turning gold, and I realized I didn't want to wait another second."
He opens the box.
Inside is a ring. Simple and elegant, a large oval-shaped solitaire diamond set in gold that catches the light like sparks.
"Madison Tate," he says, and his voice is steady even as his hands tremble slightly. "Will you marry me?"
For a moment, I can't speak. Can't breathe. Can't do anything but stare at the man in front of me. This impossible, infuriating, wonderful man.
The snow falls around us, soft as a blessing.
"Yes," I whisper. Then, louder: "Yes. Yes, of course, yes."
His face breaks into the most radiant smile I've ever seen. He slides the ring onto my finger—it fits perfectly, because of course it does—and then he's pulling me into his arms and kissing me like I'm oxygen, like I'm home, like I'm everything he's ever wanted.
I kiss him back with everything I have.
When we finally break apart, we're both laughing, both covered in snowflakes that melt the moment they touch our skin.
"I can't believe you proposed in a snowstorm," I manage.
"I thought it was fitting. Given our history."
"We're going to freeze to death out here."
"Worth it."
I laugh and press my forehead to his. The ring glitters on my finger, foreign and perfect and exactly right.
"I—" I shake my head. "I love you," I tell him softly. "I love you so much."
"I love you too." He kisses me again, soft and sweet. "Future wife."
*****
