“Hayes—”
“I’ll get on my knees right now. I’ll stand outside of your house with a boombox every night if I have to. I’ll send you flowers and chocolate and love letters and—"
Emotion garbles my words. “I forgive you.”
And just like that, the war is over.
Hayes stares at me with a fraction of shock wedged in his eyes. “You do?”
“I do.”
I sniffle, the love inside of me amping up to a threshold I didn’t even know was possible. Then sobs ensue, and some timely wailing, and I’m immediately met by Hayes’ arms, which wrap so tightly around me that I think he’s never planning on letting go.
The rubbing on my back intensifies, and I can hear his heart bash as quickly and profusely as mine. “Shh, Aeris. You’re okay.”
By the time I look up at him, I’ve left a sizable puddle on his shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what my dad said.”
He wipes his thumb over the small smattering of tears on my cheek. “It’s okay. I should’ve never kept this ‘fake relationship’ bullshit from you. You deserved to know. It wasn’t fair to you, and I hate that I hurt you. I’m so, so sorry. I hope you know there’ll never be a part of me that forgives myself for what I put you through.”
I can see in his eyes that he means every word of it. Hell, he’s squeezing my hand so hard that my bones feel like they’re made of glass.
“If I can forgive you, I hope you forgive yourself one day too.”
Hayes whispers into the curve of my neck, his lips a treasure I plan on hoarding. “I’ve never done anything in my twenty-four years of life that made me deserving of a blessing. But you, Aeris Relera, were a blessing in disguise. You make me a better person. You make days worth living again. Living, okay? Before you, I was merely surviving. You saved me.”
“No, Hayes. You’re the one who saved me. You took that broken girl from the bar and slowly put her back together. You taught me what it feels like to be loved—and that’s a lesson I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.”
“Loving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he says.
The easiest thing.
I’ve always seen myself as impossible to love. I always believed no one would want to be with a girl who’s too loud or too emotional or too damaged. But Hayes didn’t care about any of my flaws—he didn’t even see them.
“How did you know we were even going to make it?” I murmur.
There’s a lightness to his tone, but it doesn’t give leeway for laughter. “Because I saw you. That night at the bar. I saw the real you—someone who’s understanding, compassionate, loyal. Someone who loves so fiercely that it makes me forget about all the love I lost in the past.”
“Oh, Hayes.”
I stand on my tiptoes and dip my tongue into his mouth. This kiss…it feels different than the ones we’ve shared in the past. There’s a certainty that was never there before, and it’s sweeter than both the tequila and the chocolate that have glazed Hayes’ lips. His arms squeeze around me, and I allow myself to enjoy every second in his embrace, for once not thinking about the next thing. I’m not running anymore—not from Wilder, not from Roden, not from my dad.
When we eventually pull away for air, his pupils are blown wide, and the smile that he hit me with the first time we met glimmers in my love-drunk haze.
“Aeris, will you—”
“If you get down on one knee right now, I’ll knee you in the balls,” I bumble, a shot of panic entering my voice.
I can’t be a wife. I’ve just gotten used to being a girlfriend. Marrying someone is a huge decision—like, fifty percent of first marriages end in divorce. And what if a surprise child comes along before then? That child will have to balance a life between two households, probably develop a ton of mental health issues, and then grow up to become maladjusted and have a deep hatred for their parents.
Hayes chuckles. “I’m not proposing to you.”
I blink about twenty times in the span of three seconds. “You’re not?”
“No, Stacks. I was just asking if you’d let me stay,” he finishes, his tone lifting with amusement, that dimple of his popping out.
Stay. A single word has never sounded so good before.
“Of course you can stay,” I answer. I have no idea for how long, but maybe there’s a reason he didn’t add a time commitment.
The way he holds me, the way we talk, the way we kiss—it all feels so natural. I can’t believe I was depriving myself of this for so long. I guess I do believe in soulmates and love at first sight. Two things that were about as imaginary as a unicorn at one point.
He hugs me to his side, and his lips press the top of my head. His voice is soft, nearly a whisper, but I still hear what he says.
“When I propose to you, I hope you’ll say yes.”
TWO YEARS LATER
AERIS
My heart’s palpitating in my chest.
If Hayes was planning to propose tonight, he’s been disturbingly calm throughout dinner. No sweat on his brow, no excessive water drinking, no darting eyes. He took me to Pasta La Vista, the place we had our first date. If that’s not some hidden clue, then I don’t know what is.
We just celebrated our third-year anniversary. Lila and Josie are convinced he’s going to pop the question soon. I want him to, I do, but I’m also scared that a lot will change once we get married.
Ever since Casen and Josie’s wedding, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about spending forever with him. I’ve daydreamed about our kids, and if they’ll grow up to play hockey like their father. If you think shopping for baby clothes is adorable, just imagine a big, burly hockey player teaching a tiny child how to skate.
“Do you want some champagne?” Hayes asks, roping my attention with those blue topaz eyes of his.
“I’m okay,” I say, an easy smile tipping up the corners of my mouth.
“Are you sure?”
Am I? I mean, I guess a few sips wouldn’t hurt. I did just get a promotion at work, so there’s a reason to celebrate. I’ve been promoted from caption writer to social media manager of Your Ass is Grass. And with my relationship with Hayes being so public, we’ve gotten a lot of traffic from hockey fans. A lot of athletes want to go vegan, I guess.
“You know what? I could go for a glass. Just one, though.”
Without so much as another word, Hayes flags down one of the waiters, requesting that they bring a flute of their finest champagne.
Heat collars my neck. It feels hot in here. Is it hot in here? I feel like everybody in the nearby vicinity is watching me, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.
The minute the glass is set in front of me, expectancy makes Hayes’ eyebrows inch toward his hairline.
The pink bubbles pop dauntingly in the liquid. Hayes hasn’t ordered a glass for himself, which I find a bit odd, but I don’t pay much mind to it.
With his eyes boring a hole in my skull, I take a healthy gulp from my glass, but I only get a few sips in before a sudden pain crowds my throat. At first, I assumed it was just from the burn of the alcohol, but then my windpipe constricts on itself, and I can’t breathe.