Chapter 9 - The Proposal at Table 17
I thought that would be the ending.
It wasn't.
A month later, Adrian took me to a small house outside the city.
No guards.
No cameras.
No iron gates.
Just a garden and a white porch.
"It's ours," he said.
I stared.
"Ours?"
He nodded.
"I've spent my whole life in places designed to keep people out."
He looked at me.
"I want a home where people can come in."
I stepped onto the porch.
Lily came running.
Clara followed.
For the first time, all four of us were standing together.
Not running.
Not hiding.
Just living.
That evening, Adrian cooked.
Badly.
I laughed for nearly an hour.
"Who taught you?"
"No one."
"That explains everything."
He looked offended.
"I'm trying."
"So am I."
We ate anyway.
Later, he took me into the garden.
There was a small wooden table.
Two chairs.
A bottle of sparkling cider.
He looked nervous.
I'd never seen Adrian nervous.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying."
He smiled.
"You taught me."
He reached into his pocket.
My heart stopped.
He knelt.
I covered my mouth.
He opened the ring box.
"I used to think love was weakness."
I shook my head.
"I know."
"I was wrong."
He held up the ring.
"You were the first person who made me want something I couldn't buy."
He smiled.
"And the first person who made me want to deserve it."
I cried.
"Elena Marlowe, will you marry me?"
I dropped to my knees beside him.
"Yes."
He laughed.
"That's not how people usually answer."
"I don't care."
I hugged him.
From the porch, Lily shouted,
"Did she say yes?"
Clara laughed.
"She did!"
Lily ran toward us.
"When's the wedding?"
Adrian looked at me.
"When she wants."
I smiled.
"Spring."
"Spring it is."
For the first time in my life, planning something felt strange.
I wasn't planning an escape.
I wasn't planning how to keep someone alive.
May you like
I wasn't planning what lie to tell.
I was planning a wedding.
