“This is what you meant earlier, when you had an idea of what would keep people from flirting with you and propositioning you everywhere you go?”
“It’s not everywhere I go, or everyone,” he groused at me.
“It’s enough,” I apprised him. “And I agree with you that a big, thick band on your finger would probably do the trick.”
“That’s not why I wanna marry you.”
“Yes, I know, but it would be a definite perk,” I told him, stepping close and holding out my hand.
“I thought you didn’t care that I get hit on,” he said, sliding the ring onto my finger before taking my hand in both of his.
“I care that they think they have a shot,” I told him, admiring, as always, how beautiful he was. “So tomorrow after work, we’ll go pick out a ring for you, and Saturday we’ll go to the shelter and get a cat.”
He kissed my hand and then stood up, his eyes misting as he stared at me. “So then, is that a yes?”
“Yes, Dallas Bauer, of course I’ll marry you.”
He tried to smile, couldn’t, and nodded instead.
“We’ll ask your mother if we can get married in her backyard. What do you think?”
More nodding.
Slipping my hand from his, I put both to his face. “I love you, and I will never stop. We’re supposed to be together; it was always supposed to be us.”
“Yes,” he rasped, not having full control of his voice quite yet. “Though it’s not very logical, is it?”
“No,” I agreed, leaning in. “But we don’t care.”
“Not one bit,” he murmured, his eyes drifting closed before I kissed him.