The small creek of the hinge sounds so loud in the silence of the room as Ivy looks inside. My eyes stay fixed on her face, and I track the myriad of emotions as they register. Shock and awe, but then scrutiny and doubt again.
“Blake.” Her breathy gasp makes me smile. “Is this ...?”
“Your engagement ring, yes,” I finish for her.
“I don’t understand.” She looks up at me, as if challenging me, and then starts to pace back and forth. “I mean, how on earth you thought our last conversation would mean we're ready for this, I have no idea, but … oh my god, you’re completely mad.”
I close in on her, making my presence in this clear and as fucking direct as I can. “This, Ivy,” I point to the ring, “is your engagement ring, whenever you’re ready to wear it.”
“When I’m ready?” Her voice goes all squeaky. “What does that mean?”
“It means when you’re ready. I know a relationship seems to be a block for you, but you’re it for me. If that scares you, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to sit around and let you second-guess and question. You need to know I love you. You need to know that I’m the one for you, even if you might not know it yourself.” Her mouth opens, but no way am I finished yet. “And this is the way I intend to show you. Every day we’re together, I’m going to work at making you believe that a relationship is everything you want and that I’m everything you want. If I need to wait a week or a year, I will, because that ring will be on your finger, and I will make you my wife.”
It's done. My grand gesture. My lay it all on the line move is sitting in a box in her hand. Her mouth is still open, as if she's trying to say something but can't quite get it out, and then her damned pacing starts up again.
At least she keeps glancing at the box.
“Stop," I say, taking her hands. I pull her to a halt in front of me. “Just stop.”
“I'm not Amanda,” she blurts out.
“What?”
“I'm not Amanda, Blake, and I can't make that go away or replace something that was taken from you. You're not thinking straight." She tries to shove the ring back at me. “This is just your grief talking, and I get it, I do, but you can't rush this because you lost someone you loved.”
“I know you’re not Amanda, and I’d never want you to be her. You are you. I love you for who you are. I have every intention of telling you that every day, from now on.” The urge to scream at her until she sees sense festers, but that won’t work, not now. Ivy’s unsure and doesn’t trust her feelings. I need to show her she can trust mine. “And my grief has no influence here. But I do know what love is, and because I do, I’m not going to let it slip away. That’s why you have that.” I nod at the box still in her hand.
She’s quiet for a moment, and I hope she’s absorbing my words. “Do you want an answer now?” she asks, frowning.
I shake my head. “No. This isn’t about pressuring you.”
“Ha!” She gasps in mock humour. “Really?”
“Really.”
“It’s just … my head is filled with all this still, and I can’t …”
“I know. But I wanted to show you I love you. And I want you to take that leap of faith you seem so happy to do when it’s about anything other than the feelings in your own heart.”
Her eyes glisten, and she blinks up at me.
“You’ll be there to catch me when I jump?”
“Always.” I mean it. When she’s ready, I’ll be there for her. So what if this is an unconventional proposal. She knows how serious I am now. That I’ll always be there for her.
“Still playing the hero.”
“Only for you. Come here.” I pull her against my chest and kiss her. Our lips move easily together, and it’s not long before the familiar desire kicks up, sending all my blood rushing to my cock.
“Take me to bed,” Ivy murmurs behind our kiss.
“My pleasure.”
“Wait, what do I do with the ring?” She pulls away.
“It’s yours. What do you want to do with it?” Once it's on her finger, it's never coming off.
She places the box on the bedside table with the lid open, allowing the light to shine on the diamonds. The perfect place to remind her. And then she looks back at me and cocks her head to the side, a smile on her face. “That okay?”
