Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Let’s not stop doing that last part,” I interjected.
“Never,” he promised. “But I don’t need to make people’s fantasies come true. I need to make their realities not suck as much.”
My heart ached at his excitement over the project, over his new direction. His enthusiasm was almost childlike.
“So, this is your new hobby, then?” I joked. “Not making people’s fantasies come true, but making people’s lives measurably better?”
He shook his head, dead serious. “It’s not a hobby. It’s my mission.”
I gave his hands a squeeze and released him to wander a few steps into the space. “So, the location is intentionally close to the hospital.”
“We’ll be working with them on referrals for clients in need. I thought about making it open to anyone, but Catherine pointed out, rightly so, that rich people can take care of their own medical issues.”
“Rich people,” I reiterated. “Not middle-class people.”
“Exactly. The income limit is going to be set a lot higher than Catherine would have liked.” He walked with me, peeking into a few of the cubicles. “Hey, free pen.”
“You’re already reaping the rewards of your good deed.” I paused in front of another one. “Ooh, a calendar with puppies on it. And it’s from 2020, so it will be good again in, what, eight years?”
“Better hang on to that,” he quipped. “Come on, over here.”
Matt’s office was behind a plain door with a wood grain surface that seemed suspiciously plastic. He opened it and clicked on the light. His headquarters weren’t sprawling or impressive at all. The single window started at waist height to make room for an ancient radiator, and there were still indents where a desk’s legs had made round impressions in the generic gray carpet. There was an unoffensively blue-gray sofa along one wall, and an abstract watercolor print in a thin gold frame above it. It was the kind of place styled to look like every other office building.
“We’re going to give it a makeover, obviously,” he said, watching my expression. “But I’m not gonna knock down walls to expand it to prove that I’m powerful and important.”
“Because the mission is what’s important,” I finished for him. “Fuck... Matt, this is such a shock.”
“I wish it wasn’t. I wish it was the way things were. I wish I’d been raised to see people as more important than money. But I’m grateful someone finally spoke up about it.” He looked down, and I thought it was a gesture of shame. I was about to reassure him when I realized he was reaching into his jacket pocket.
He said, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m not getting down on one knee,” before I even saw the signature blue of the ring box.
I covered my mouth and backed up.
“But I know your first instinct is to run, and by the time I manage to get back up, you’ll already be at the airport.” He opened the box and held it out.
Inside, the clearest, most colorless diamond I’d ever seen in my life winked up from a simple, thin platinum band.
“Don’t run,” he said in a pleading near-whisper, closing the already negligible distance between us. Maybe it was a test, to see if I would step back. To see if I would literally pull away before I did it figuratively.
I gazed up into his eyes, lost myself in the love and fearful hope there. I couldn’t speak, at first, so I shook my head slightly. Then, realizing how disastrously that could be misinterpreted, I managed to rasp out, “I won’t.”
He took the ring out and tossed the box over his shoulder with a slanted smile. “What do you say, princess? Wanna get married?”
I giggled through a sudden burst of furiously happy tears.
But as quickly as that euphoria took me, it died away under the weight of doubt.
No, not doubt.
Reality.
He picked up on my change in emotion immediately, the ring poised at the tip of my finger. “What’s wrong?”
“Your mom.” Would she even come to our wedding after the way I’d reacted the last time I’d seen her? She still hadn’t spoken to me or to Matt.
“Okay. Some unresolved issues. But you’re not marrying my mother, and she’s not in charge of me. Was what you said nice? No. Was it true? Yes, and I agreed with it. Next?”
“You’ve been engaged before. I’m your sixth fiancé.” It wasn’t that far off from being the sixth spouse.
His brow furrowed; his eyes went pained. “That’s... true.”
“Did you give that any thought before you bought the ring?” I asked, as gently as could when my heart was on the line.
He nodded. “I did. Maybe not as much as you would find appropriate, but I did think about this.”
“And?” I had to know what conclusion he’d come to that made me different from the others.
“And I realized that I’m proposing to you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Not because I’m afraid I’m going to lose you.” He shrugged, as if he were helpless in the face of the truth. “This is the first time I’ve bought an engagement ring that didn’t feel like an insurance policy. Every other time, whether I was proposing or accepting a proposal, that I didn’t do it because of a gnawing in the pit of my stomach that convinced me that if I didn’t legally bind someone to me, I would lose them forever.”