Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“This is the most wonderful, thoughtful, and amazing thing anybody has ever done for me.”
“You deserve it,” I say. “Plus, it’s handy because when you get on my nerves, I can just banish you to your studio.”
Her laughter rings in my ears like music, and she playfully smacks my chest. “Seriously, though,” she says. “Thank you for this. I’m… I’m speechless, really. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
My nerves flutter because this isn’t the only reason I brought her out here. There’s something else I have for her. What she’s going to think of it, though, I don’t know. And I’m nervous. Clearing my throat, I hold her gaze and smile.
“There’s something else,” I say.
“More?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She cocks her head. “What is it?”
I pull the small box out of my pocket and lower myself to a knee. Her eyes grow wide, and she clamps her hands over her mouth again. The sunlight coming through the skylights glints off the diamond in the box and sparkles in the tears in her eyes.
“Emery Pierce,” I say. “I love you. Would you do me the honor—”
“Yes! Yes!” she cries.
She throws herself into me, tackling me to the floor of the studio. We roll around, laughing with each other in a tangle of limbs. We finally end up with her sitting on top of me, a hand on either side of my head, her face mere inches from mine. The air between us grows thick.
“I never expected to find somebody like you,” I tell her. “And now that I have you, I never want to let you go.”
“And I never want you to let me go. I belong to you,” she says. “And you belong to me.”
“Happily. I’ll belong to you for as long as you want me.”
“That could be a very, very long time.”
“Then I’ll be a happy man for a very, very long time.”
I pull the ring out of the box and slip it onto her finger. Emery holds it up to the light, admiring the way it sparkles in the golden shafts of sunlight with a look of sheer awe on her face. But then she turns her light brown eyes to me, an impish grin on her face.
“I think it’s time we christen the studio,” she says, her voice sultry.
I laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“I love you, Eli Proctor.”
“And I love you, Emery Pierce,” I respond. “And I always will.”
The End