Nothing was bad about that at all.
I wanted Rocco to be mine permanently, and he wanted me to be his, so… why bother dancing around the idea?
Why not just say the vows and commit to each other, with our complete hearts and souls?
Our wolves were soulmates; why wouldn’t we be just as perfect for each other as they were?
So I carefully pulled the ring out of the box, and slipped it onto my finger.
Marriage was about commitment; about being loyal, and making decisions together, and worrying about us as a whole rather than individuals.
I could do that; I could freakin’ rock that.
And I was going to.
As soon as I convinced Rocco to marry me.
There probably wouldn’t be a whole lot of convincing involved, but if there was, I was positive I could handle it. He loved me, after all. And I loved him too.
And what else mattered?
I grabbed Rocco’s cash envelope off the top of the fridge, leafing through to determine our budget. I wasn’t going to go crazy on anything—I really wasn’t a big party kind of girl—but I wanted to make it something Rocco and I would like to remember.
Grabbing my phone, I pulled up the number for the nearest dress shop and lifted the device to my ear.