Moses
It had taken metwo laps around the block to simmer down. Another two to push my hurt away. Two more to realize I’d been an asshole. Another two to work up the guts to face up to my screwup. I kept on walking for a while after that to give Michaela time too. But when she started forwarding texts she’d sent to Santi and Maeve, to Murray, Yael, her parents, even Gabriel Sotero and Nick Fletcher, I got my ass back home.
Now, I held my breath while she read from her phone.
“A few months ago, I went to a bar in Las Vegas. Let’s face it, I was after what most people are when they go to a Vegas bar by themselves. Instead, I found a familiar face, and we danced and drank and found something real in each other. Then we decided to get married. Like most spontaneous Las Vegas weddings, ours is a bit of a blur. But I remember being ecstatically happy. I remember thinking I’d found the place I could park my heart. And I remember I didn’t want that night to ever, ever end.”
If I hadn’t been leaning against a wall, I would have staggered when she turned her screen toward me to show me the picture she’d posted. It was when we were in Miami and I’d rested my head on her bare belly. The way she’d cropped it showed only her smooth, brown skin stretching over her bump and my face. My expression—Jesus, I’d been in bliss, and it had been written all over me.
She turned the screen back to her to read the rest.
“This is my husband, Moses Aronson, and that little bump is our sweet baby who will be gracing us with her presence in a few short months. I am still ecstatically happy I married him that night. As unconventional as our beginning was, the two of us are a little old-fashioned. We’d appreciate privacy so we can settle into married life and impending parenthood. Thank you for your support and all the love.”
Her eyes flicked up. “I hope that’s okay. I know you want to do some kind of statement—”
I shook my head. “It’s perfect.”
She sucked in a breath and took a step forward. “I need to ask you something.”
“Anything.” I started to go to her, but she held a hand up.
“Wait. Let me ask you.” She took another step, and then another, until she was right in front of me, then dropped down to kneel. From behind her back, she brought out a small, black box, and cracked it open to reveal two silver rings. “Moses, will you wear this ring and be my husband in public and for everyone to see? Will you remarry me?”
I fell to my knees and cupped her face. “Michaela.” Forehead on hers, I squeezed my eyes shut. “Fuck, baby. I didn’t expect this.”
She let out a soft laugh. “Is that a yes?”
I opened my eyes and tipped my head back to look at the box she held. “You got me a ring?” My voice cracked on the last word, but holy hell, my girl had gotten me a ring.
“I did. And I want to put it on your finger if you want it.”
“Yes.” I laughed, pressing a hard kiss on her soft lips. “Hell yes, I want it.”
Biting her bottom lip, she set the box on the floor between us and took out the larger ring. I held out my shaking hand, letting her slide the ring home.
“This is a badass ring.” I rubbed my thumb along the back of it, feeling the ridges. “You had this made for me?”
She nodded, her gaze flicking between the ring on my finger and my eyes. “I had a matching one made for me.”
I picked up the box and took out the delicate version of mine, holding it between two fingers. “Michaela Ashwood, would you do me the honor of being my wife and letting me love you until my dying breath?”
She blinked, her eyelashes wet, a grin playing at her lips. “You love me?”
“I thought you knew.”
She pushed my shoulder, and I caught her hand. “You haven’t said it.”
I kissed her ring finger. “I love you, Mic. Will you be my wife?”
“I have been this whole time, and I will continue to be until my last breath leaves me.”
I’d slid a ring on her before, but this time, it felt different. Those gold bands had been flimsy, not much weight to them. We’d both easily lost them when shit got more real than we could handle. But the bands Michaela had made for us felt indestructible. They were heavy, like they carried our promises inside them.
I pulled my wife from the ground and carried her to our chair. She curled into my lap and we kissed slowly, sealing the promises we’d made.
“You taste good,” she said against my lips. “My favorite.”
With my hands in her hair, I tipped her head back and sucked on her bottom lip until she moaned. “Are you ever going to tell me about the texts?”