Page 45 of For Flag's Sake
I can’t do it.
“Ivy,” she implores. “Ask me. Let me choose.”
I whimper.
“Let me choose.”
Skin electric, I rise over her, digging my elbows into the couch by her head. Droplets fall from my eyes to her flushed cheeks. Her beautiful blue eyes peering up at me, begging for a question.
My heart staggers in my chest, and I give her what she wants, unable to withhold when it’s within my power to give. “Maple Mae Valor.” I rip the words from a dark, petrified burrow insideof me. “I love you so much. I love you so, so, so, so much. Too much, maybe. I can’t let you go. I can’t let you get away from me. I–Ineedyou. Please say yes. Please don’t make me ask you this question, and then tell me no. Please, please, please say that you’ll marry me. Please say that you’ll be my wife forever, that you’ll come home to me forever—that you’ll love me forever.Please.” I take a stuttering breath, rest my forehead on hers, and ask the question. “Will you marry me, my rosy Maple? Will you take away my fears and leave behind only joy?” My eyes squeeze shut, and I force them back open, locking my gaze on hers. I will face this. For her. With her. Together, I can do this.
With a fortifying breath, I ask my final question, laying my heart out for her to stomp on—or to love. “Will youchooseme?”
She opens her mouth to answer, and I brace myself.
Chapter Twenty-Three
?
Maple
I do think about saying no. I mean, that’s kind of the whole point, isn’t it? That I would get to consider my options and pick which one I want most? In the end, though, there was only ever one answer that would satisfy me, so I don’t make him sit in his terrortoolong.
“Yes,” I answer simply once my deliberation is over.
Ivy’s breath hitches. “Yes?”
I nod. “Yes, Iverson Todric Swallow, I will marry you. Yes, I will be your wife, and come home to you, and love you. Forever.Yes, I choose you.”
Ivymelts, dropping his full weight on me with a sob. He utterly collapses, and I welcome him into my embrace gladly.
“Thank you,” he moans pitifully. “I love you. Thank you. I love you. I love you.” He carries on, vocabulary limited to five words that mean more than their definitions would imply. He thanks me in the fae way, where he gives his soul to me with every gratitude. He loves me in the divine way, where he pours out his heart for me with every proclamation.
He is mine, his words say.
I am his, I reply.
My hands move through his hair and down his back, running soothing circles wherever I can reach. I kiss the side of his head.
My husband. My love.
I should paint this. I… don’t know if I should paint this. It calls to me, this moment, but I am not the one flayed and raw. I am the one loved, and adored.
I want to paint this.
I’ll make it just for us, I decide. A piece of Ivy, and a piece of Maple, and a piece of our together, only for our eyes to see. Only for us to experience, ever.
A special moment.
A proposal.
A marriage.
A love.
A choice.
An Epilogue of Sorts
