The silence that falls is thick, muffling everything but my heartbeat.
When he finally speaks, it’s low. Steady.
“Then let me make it simple.” He closes the space between us with a quiet determination that makes my heart ache. “You come first,” he says, voice like a vow. “You always have. Before board meetings. Before this company, before my wealth, or even my own family.You.”
My breath hitches. He keeps going.
“Your career matters to me. Your reputation, your happiness, your sanity.I said the right things the first time around, but this time I have shown you. I have put everything on the line foryou, Natalie. All my wealth that I have spent years accumulating, everything I have, handed over to you, just to prove I’m in it for the long term. Do you understand what handing all of that to you means? I’ve made myself vulnerable. You could ruin me. I would have to spend years rebuilding everything. I knew that when I had that contract drawn up. But you mattered to me, and I was willing to go to any length to prove it to you. Tell me what more I have to do to earn your trust. What else do you need from me?”
His hand hovers near mine, not touching. Waiting.
“Nothing,” I finally admit, my chest tightening as the tears fall. “You’ve done enough.”
“You think I’ve been waiting for an out?” he says. “No, sweetheart. I’ve been waiting for you—to let me in.”
The term of endearment is soft, different from the wicked edge of his normally sardonic drawl.
Tears spill down my cheeks hot and fast. “I believe you. I do.”
“I know.” His voice cracks, just the faintest hint of it that breaks me. “But I need you to hear me now. I’m not going anywhere.”
He finally takes my hand, his own warm and strong around mine.
“You think I care about this company more than I care about you?” he asks. “I got this company to get close to you. The money I sank into this place means nothing to me. I can walk away from it all. I’d walk away from everything—exceptyou.”
The dam inside me breaks. Not the loud kind, not dramatic. Just a slow, aching flood of truth.
I believe him.
For the first time since we started this thing—whatever it is—I believe him.
Not because his words are perfect, but because they’re honest. Because he’s here. Because every line on his face tells mehe’s been fighting this battle alone and silently, and I’ve been too scared to stand beside him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ve been so scared. Of being left. Of getting hurt. Of being wrong about you.”
He cups my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re not wrong.”
I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his touch settle deep in the places I’ve kept locked up.
“I don’t need you to have all the answers,” he murmurs. “But I need you to trust that I’m staying.”
I open my eyes. “Okay.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. Then he leans in, pressing his forehead to mine, his hands cradling my face like I’m something fragile and precious.
And for the first time, I let myself believe that I do matter. If not to anyone else, I matter to this man.
When he releases me, I gaze at him.
“Let me give you something else that might convince you.”
“I don’t need?—”
He reaches into his jacket pocket, where I know he keeps the purple scrunchie, and brings out a small ring box.
My heart begins to pound.
“Ethan—No?—”
