Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
WILL
YOU
MARRY
ME
Will you marry me?
“Oh, my god,” I mumble through numb lips. I turn away from the band, face forward to find Touré down on one knee still wearing his doctoral robe, proffering a gorgeous square cut diamond.
“Oh, my god,” I say again, a whisper that slips out of my mouth without my permission. I can barely take in anything beyond the man I love kneeling in the grass before me, but I’m vaguely aware that half the audience is now standing, straining to see what’s happening down front. Celine stands, literally hopping from one foot to the other, covering her mouth and making little squealing noises.
I drag my gaze back to Touré.
“My grand gesture,” he says, his voice husky with emotion. “Niomi, sometimes it feels like I wandered the whole world searching for something that was always right here.”
He reaches up to press his free hand to my chest.
“Home is where you are, baby. It doesn’t matter where I go. You’re always home, and that’s where I want to spend the rest of my life.”
Shaking with barely-checked sobs, I clasp his neck and lean down, pressing my forehead to his with unchecked tears cascading over my cheeks.
“Just ask me,” I choke out, my throat on fire with tears. “Damn you, just ask.”
He pulls back enough to brush my wet cheek with his thumb, kisses my forehead and strains up to whisper in my ear, for my ears only.
“Will you marry me, Ni?”
It feels like the whole crowd holds its breath waiting for me to answer the question they didn’t hear, but know he asked. Celine has gone absolutely still beside us, hands pressed to her lips. The band stands at attention, the Finley Prancers still holding their poster boards up like a conductor’s suspended note. It’s so ridiculous. The whole spectacle is so ridiculous and so out of character for the man who always guarded his privacy closely, that I laugh through my tears. The man whose face was swathed in layers of mystery on the cover of Elsewhere, is now to me, known. An open book.
I frame the hard, high bones of his striking face with my hands and draw him close, pressing my lips to his and whispering, “Yes.”
He stands and slips the ring onto my trembling finger. He lifts one arm high and gives a thumbs up while pressing his lips to mine, murmuring into our kiss, “She said yes.”
The place goes wild and the band dives back into the high-energy song that ushered them in. It’s mass chaos all around us, but with his lips sealed to mine and our hearts thumping between us, all I know is peace. It doesn’t matter that hundreds of people are watching us. As much as I love Finley, it doesn’t really matter that he chose to do this here. We started here, but he could have chosen any spot in the world.
As long as it is him and as long as it is me, I will always be home.