Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 120176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
He did. Once we walked inside our house, I walked into the kitchen and it was full of pink and cream balloons. Pink roses, peonies, baby’s breath, and orchids filled the room. I gaped. “Wha–” I walked farther in, seeing them in the dining room.
The living room.
“Oh my God, Cruz. Who did this?” They were in the second living room.
The hallway.
The front entryway.
I went up to the bedroom, and they were in there.
I went through the whole house. Every inch was covered.
“This must’ve cost a fortune.” I was walking back, still in a daze, when I braked because it took a second for me to fully register what I was seeing.
He was kneeling down, holding out a box toward me.
“Cruz,” I whispered, feeling tears in my throat.
He opened the box, and a ring. A diamond ring. A sparkling diamond ring was there that he was now holding to me. He took a breath, his eyes shining, but a little clouded over. “We’ve been through a lot. You put up with me with all the intense pressure that comes with my job, the blogs, puck bunnies–”
Oh. I wanted him to stop.
He kept on, his voice dipping, “—when my mom had her accident, and you helped take care of Titi during our holidays.”
None of that had been a hardship. I loved his mother. I loved his sister. They took one look at me, and both started crying as they wrapped their arms around me. It’d been an emotional night for the first introduction.
“When Labrowski almost quit school that one time. When Barclay was arrested and went through his dark shit. When Keys got hurt. When Atwater messed with those bikers. I mean, my guys weren’t the easiest to put up with, and I’m saying that as one of their brothers. But you were there. Every day. You took care of us, of them. And now this, moving here with me. I know some girls would want to start on their career, but you came with me.” He blinked a few times, his eyes shining. “You think you’re one way, but babe, you’re not. You’re another way. You love and you support, and you do all the shit in the background so no one notices. I noticed. I notice. I’m fucking lucky to have you, and I don’t want to wait another day before telling you that I want to wake up every morning with you beside me. I want to hold your hand during movies for the rest of my life. I want to smell you, hear you laugh, get texts when you tell me to win or you won’t jerk me off anymore.” He laughed. “But I just want you, Mara. Will you be my wife?”
I blinked away some tears, using the back of my hand to clear them off my face, and I nodded, almost running to him. I couldn’t see the ring anymore. I didn’t care about the ring. He put it on my finger, and after that, I was in his arms. We were kissing, my legs were wrapped around his waist, and he stood, his hands holding my ass.
He pulled back. “Is that a yes?”
“God, YES! I want to be your wife too.” All those things he said, it went both ways. Of him helping with my mom. Of him fighting on my behalf against Carrington, taking care of the blogs so they stopped publishing lies about me, or truths about my mom. He worked with my dad to have an intervention with my mom where it was outlined what she could do with me, and firmly what she couldn’t. If she didn’t adhere to any of the boundaries, our relationship was done.
It hadn’t worked. The intent was there, and it did help my mom to hear it clearly and articulately outlined what she was doing to me. She already knew. I’d told her so many times, but somehow being told firmly by two males, who were standing shoulder to shoulder blocking her view of me, the whole experience was a message to her.
She backed off, and big time over the last few years because ironically, the farther I got from her, the more support I received, the easier it was to handle her.
I knew she’d always be a part of my life. I’d always want my mom to be a mom, and I wouldn’t get that from her. I’d get hurt, and we’d go round and round, but sometimes I liked checking on her. Right now, she had a new boyfriend and he called a month earlier for advice. He was steady and strong. Not much seemed to bother him, so in a way, maybe he was perfect for her.
I knew what the realistic result would be, but listening to him, feeling my own happiness, I was letting myself be hopeful that one day my mom would get the happiness she never seemed able to find.