Page 90 of What So Proudly We Hail
We’ve been officially living together for a year now. Well, she did stay with me for a few weeks after the fire while searching for a new apartment, but that didn’t last long.
Now that we’re living under the same roof, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I sleep better when she’s close by. Even if thatscumbag Victor is behind bars—and will stay there for many,manyyears without the possibility of parole—I still prefer having her close.
Besides, we’re good together. Solid. Real.
Which is why I can’t wait for this game to be over, even though it hasn’t even started yet.
Finally, the buzzer sounds, marking the end of the game. We won, which is always a great feeling, but more than anything, I’m just happy that Harper and I are on our way home.
Clutching the small box in my pocket like it might anchor me, I open the door for her and step aside. A little gasp escapes her lips when she enters the living room.
“Baptiste, what’s all this?”
The room glows softly, washed in flickering gold by dozens of LED candles—still have PTSD from that fire—that I’ve placed along the shelves, the windowsills, the floor… everywhere. Rose petals are scattered across the hardwood, imperfect but intentional, marking a path to the center of the room. I wanted everything to be perfect for the girl who changed my life for the better.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” I say, trying to photograph this moment in my mind. “And I thought it would be the perfect night for this.”
I shuffle forward, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure she can hear it, and then lower myself to one knee.
“I don’t want a life without you,” I begin, my voice steady even as everything inside me quakes. “I want every morning and every night. Every laugh and every argument. Every quiet moment and every loud one. If you’ll have me.”
Her hands tremble as she covers her mouth, eyes already shining with unshed tears.
“Harper Donnelly,” I continue, opening the leather box and revealing a round-cut solitaire. A simple, elegant ring that feels exactly like her—strong, beautiful, brilliant. “Will you marry me?”
Her face crumples with emotion, joy and disbelief colliding all at once.
“Yes,” she says breathlessly. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
I’m on my feet in a second, the box forgotten as she throws her arms around my neck. Our kiss is slow and devout, like I’m sealing a promise. She melts into me, fingers threading into my hair, and the kiss deepens, full of relief, love, and a future we’re choosing together.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” she says, pulling back just enough to look at me. She glances around the room, eyes gleaming. “Mr. Romantic.”
“Oh, I like that one.” A grin springs to my lips, wider than ever, because I’ve never been as happy as I am right now.
“And this ring is stunning,” she says as I place it on her finger.
“I had help picking it out,” I admit. “Well, setting up this whole thing, really. Auntie Mumu and Helen were a big help.”
“That’s so sweet.” Her voice softens as she presses a kiss to my jaw. “And we’ll have to call Grandma first thing,” she adds. “You know how she gets if she’s not the first to know about something.”
I chuckle, pulling her closer. “Yeah. I’d rather not find out what happens if we forget.”
Glenda is as intense as ever, but she’s doing well. Things have calmed down at Golden Age. When the scandal was exposed, a legitimate company bought back all the retirement homes involved in the scandal, and they’re now in good hands. No wild poker games—at least not with real money—no betting, and no residents aggressively hawking their handmade jewelry or recipe cards in the common room.
“Actually,” Harper says, tilting her head thoughtfully, “maybe we could go tomorrow morning, if you’re up for it? I really want to see her face when I give her the news.”
“Of course.” I brush my thumb along her cheek. “Anything for my fiancée.”
Her eyes widen, then light up with the gentlest sparkle as she lets out a breathy laugh. “Oh gosh, that’s true. I am your fiancée. It feels so weird to say that out loud.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Good weird, or…?”
Her smile spreads, slow and sure, like she’s savoring every second. “The best weird possible… Mr. Fiancé.”
My heart bursts, and I break into a smile. “I’ll take it. For now. But I can’t wait to be Mr. Husband.”
“Oh yeah.” She nods. “That’s the one.”
I lean down and kiss her again, the movement of our lips unhurried and warm, sealing the word between us. She falls into me easily, like this is where she’s always belonged. And as we stand there, surrounded by soft LED candlelight and rose petals, it finally hits me—this is it. This is home.
She’s my family.
