Page 58 of Unwrapped
I know the way my soul aches when she isn’t part of my life.
I know she makes me want to be a better man.
What more do I need to know? Why should society’s norms keep us from going after what we truly want? Isn’t our timeline the only one that matters? We wasted so many years being apart. I don’t want to lose another second.
Her gaze darts away from mine, and she wraps her arms around herself. “It’s OK. I was only kidd—”
“Yes.” I clear my throat and abruptly sit up, then scramble into a kneeling position. “I think I am.”
Camille’s eyes meet mine once more and widen. Her shoulders rise and fall faster with each breath as she waits for me to continue.
“Look, I don’t have a diamond to give you right now—or a fancy speech prepared—but I know I want to keep you forever.” I swallow and take a steadying breath. “I realize it’s kinda soon, and we have a lot to figure out, but I’ve loved you since we first met.” I take one of her hands in mine and brush my thumb over her knuckles. “I plan on loving you until the day I die, and for the rest of eternity after that, so why wait?”
I snatch my tie and loop it over our joined hands, creating a sloppy makeshift bow, then stare deep into her eyes. “Camille Elizabeth Monet, you are a gift. I love you more than I can put into words. I want to be your husband, and the father of your children. I want us to spend the rest of our lives creating the happily ever after that works for us.” I force myself to stop rambling. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” She yanks herself free from my bow and launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. “Yes, a thousand times over.”
I fall backward, pulling her along so she lands on top of me again. Our lips collide in a frenzied kiss that reaches into my soul. The victory I’ve waited my whole life for is finally mine.
After a few minutes, Camille breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes. “Who said you don’t have creative writing abilities, Dr. West?”
“Just some people who don’t matter.”
“Sounds like they need a checkup from the neck up.”
I laugh and pull her close, seizing her lips in another soul deep kiss. “And you, my feisty fiancée, are about to get a checkup of your own.” I roll her onto her back and settle between her legs, holding her gaze when I sink inside her again.
“I love you, Dean.” She kisses my lips. “But you have it all wrong.”
“How so?”
“You’re the gift.” Camille wraps her arms and legs around me, holding on to me for dear life while I slowly make love to her.
Somehow it feels even better this time, knowing she’s mine to keep.
Mood Music: “The Bones” by Maren Morris and Hozier
New Year’s Eve has never been my favorite holiday because I always find it melancholic. I never make resolutions because I know I won’t keep them—they’re simply another opportunity for me to fail. This year, on the other hand, I’m filled with hope instead of dread.
For starters, I finally have a date for the hospital’s annual party. Dean is currently at the bar, getting me a glass of champagne. Thanks to traffic delays during his trip from Boston, we arrived at the party an hour late. He apologized profusely, but I wasn’t upset. All that matters is he made the effort to be here.
After spending Christmas Day together, Dean reluctantly trekked back to Boston with the promise we’d speak every day. He made good on his vow, calling whenever he could, and texting me in between. Even yesterday morning, when he was exhausted from his overnight shift, he still called to chat while I got ready for work. I won’t lie, it’s not easy being away from him, but I need to trust we’ll figure it out.
After all, we are engaged.
The thought warms me, filling my belly with butterflies. I still can’t believe it. His impromptu proposal couldn’t have been more perfect, even without a ring. I nearly melted when he tied our hands together as a symbol of our bond. We haven’t shared the news with anyone other than our families. We want time to enjoy our engagement before everyone starts bugging us for wedding details. Dean told his mother this morning, which is part of why he was late. He said she was confused at first—just like my parents—but once he explained his feelings, she seemed genuinely happy. Not that I’m surprised. She always liked me.
Dean approaches with two flutes of champagne, setting them on the cocktail table we claimed. “Here you go, sweetheart. The bartender said it’s a fancy French one.” He chuckles. “Of course, I forgot the name on my way over here, but whatever. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will. French, huh?” I flutter my lashes at him. “I enjoy French things. Especially when it involves your lips.”
His eyes darken as he sweeps them over me. He points to the ceiling. “We can head up to our room right now if you want.”
“Not yet. I want to mingle with my friends for a bit.”
Like I hoped, Hotel Polaris is still decorated for Christmas, but instead of a swanky wedding setup, the ballroom is filled with lights and music. The dance floor is full, and all around me, people are laughing and celebrating. I scan the room in search of Lena. We haven’t talked since her birthday last Friday because she was out sick this week. I left messages checking in on her, but she never returned my calls. Hopefully, she’s OK. Now that I think about it, she probably won’t be here tonight.
“See anyone from the pharmacy?” Dean sips his champagne.
