Page 156 of The Illusion
"Nothing's wrong. It's just..." She trails off, looking around. "There's something missing."
"Missing?" I glance around, trying to figure out what she's talking about. "Do you want more flowers? I can run to the store?—"
"No, it's not that."
"A different table? We could swap out the picnic table for something else?—"
"No." She shakes her head, that furrow deepening. "It's not the furniture or the decorations. It's something else."
I turn to face her fully. "Okay. What is it?"
She bites her lip, thinking. Then her face lights up. "Hold on. I know what it is."
Before I can ask, she's jogging back toward the house. I watch her go, confused but amused. A minute later, she comes back, holding a piece of paper.
"What's that?" I ask.
She doesn't answer. She just walks up to me and hands it over.
I look down at it, and my heart stops. It's a change of address form. The kind you get at the post office. And it's already filled out. My name with my current address listed as old. And Julie's address listed as new. I read it twice to make sure I understand. Jesus. My throat is tight and my chest aches in the best possible way.
"Julie," I manage.
"That's what was missing," she says softly. "You. Living here. With me. This isn't just my house, Ryan. It's ours. And I want it to be official."
I look up at her, and she's watching me with those big, beautiful eyes, her expression open and vulnerable and so full of love it makes me want to drop to my knees. "Are you sure?" I ask, my voice rough.
"Without a doubt."
"Buttercup—"
"I love you," she says. "I love you so much it scares me sometimes. And I know we've only been together for six months, but it feels right.Youfeel right. And I don't want to wait anymore. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to come home to you every night. I want this to be ours."
I can't speak. I can't even breathe. So I do the only thing I can think of. I drop the paper, cup her face in my hands, and kiss her. She melts into me, her arms wrapping around my neck, and I pour everything I'm feeling into that kiss—all the love, all the gratitude, all the overwhelming joy of knowing that this woman, this incredible, beautiful, resilient woman, wants to build a life with me. When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard.
"Is that a yes?" she asks, her voice teasing but her eyes serious.
"That's a hell yes," I say. "I'll start packing tomorrow."
She laughs, and the sound is pure happiness. "Good. Because I already cleared out half the closet for you."
"You did?"
"I did. And I bought you a toothbrush holder for the bathroom. It's shaped like a dinosaur."
I laugh so hard I have to lean against her. "A dinosaur?"
She giggles. “I knew it would make you laugh.”
"It's perfect. You're perfect."
She kisses me again, softer this time. "We're perfect."
"Yeah," I say, resting my forehead against hers. "We are."
I carry her inside. She laughs and protests, saying she can walk, but I don't care. I want to carry her over the threshold like we're newlyweds, because in a way, we are. We're starting something new. Something real.I take her upstairs to the bedroom—ourbedroom—and lay her down on the bed.
"Ryan," she whispers as I climb onto the bed beside her.
