"William. After my grandfather."
"The one who built the original bar at Timber?"
"You remember that?"
"I remember everything about your brewery. Had to, for reconnaissance purposes."
I snort. "For reconnaissance?"
"Know thy enemy." But there's no edge to it anymore. Just warmth and sleepiness.
"And now?"
"Now you're not my enemy." Her hand finds mine on her belly. "You're so much more.”
My heart flips over. The ring is still in my jeans pocket, but my jeans are on the floor. This isn't the right time. There's no candlelight, no fancy restaurant. It’s just us in the dark.
But Banks was right. I'm not a grand gesture kind of guy.
"Wren."
"Hmm?"
"I need to ask you something."
She tucks herself closer into me, her face buried against my neck so I can feel her breath on my skin. It goes straight to my dick, but with my nerves, it doesn’t get fully hard. "If this is about baby names again?—"
"It's not." I pull the elastic out of her hair and run my fingers through it. "I want you to stay married to me."
She goes still. "That wasn’t a question."
"We're Vegas married. Drunk married." I take a breath. "I want you to bereallymarried to me. Because you want to be, not because we got hammered and Elvis pronounced us man and wife."
"Kasen..."
"You're right, that wasn't a question." I shift so I can see her face in the dim light. "Wren Callan, will you stay my wife?”
She blinks up at me but says nothing, so I keep going.
"I know this isn't romantic. We're in bed about to fall asleep and you're wearing your underwear and there's probably still pad Thai in your teeth." She lets out a surprised laugh. "But this is us. This is real. And I love this version of us more than any of the stupid proposals I've been planning for weeks."
"You've been planning a proposal?"
"Elaborate, stupid proposals that keep getting derailed because life keeps happening." I shift so I can see her face in the dim light. "But you know what? Life happens. With us. Every day. The good and the messy and the shitty. And I don't want to stop."
She's quiet for so long, I start to panic. Then I feel wetness against my neck.
"You're crying?"
"Shut up." But she's smiling through her tears. "You're being sweet and it's freaking me out."
"Pink—"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I'll stay married to you, you idiot." She sniffles. "Only because you're right. This is us. And somehow it’s everything."
