Date Me Like You Mean It

He takes my left hand and holds it out flat so he can start to slip the ring onto my finger. It’s delicate and beautiful with a tiny flowering vine etched into the gold.

“She said she bought this ring on her 50th birthday, when she was on a solo trip to Paris. She’d always wanted to visit the city, and though she had no one to take with her, she still went. One day, she was feeling a little lonely, so she took a walk beside the Seine and struck up a conversation with a street vendor selling vintage jewelry—”

“Just like—”

He nods. “At my loneliest, I found a painting. She found this ring. She insisted I take it, and I told her I would give it to you after you agreed to marry me.”

The ring settles into place and I stare down at it, completely in awe.

Aiden smiles and steps away slightly, leaning his head back and running his fingers through his dark strands. I watch a drop of water trace the contour of his cheek and jaw before it disappears below his chin.

Then I work up the courage to broach the dreaded topic. “Aiden?”

He hums, keeping his eyes closed as he lets the warm water wash over him.

“I want to marry you. I do. But I don’t want you to quit your job on my account. You love your work. You’ll regret it if you leave it all behind just to be with me. I bet if you called your boss first thing…”

His eyes blink open and my words slip away. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see in his expression, but he almost looks angry with me.

Instinctively, I take a microscopic step back.

“I just don’t want you to regret it,” I say with a quiet voice, wondering why he’s looking at me like that, with smoldering eyes and frustrated brows.

He reaches out to catch my hand, and I realize I’ve been continuing to back up away from him.

He tugs me close, and our warm bodies press together. He uses his pointer finger to tilt my chin up, and I listen carefully as he speaks.

“I would quit a thousand times over to be with you. Any job. Anywhere.”

“But—”

“No. Listen to me. Work is what we do to pay the bills and fill our time. Sure, I’m fortunate that I enjoy what I do, but if you think I care more about that than I do about you…Maddie, it doesn’t compare.”

Our foreheads meet, and I close my eyes.

“I don’t care what I’m doing as long as you and I are together. Got it?”

I smile. “Got it.”EpilogueMaddieOur house is quiet when I get home except for the tinkling of Stanley’s collar as he comes to greet me at the door. His tail wags hard, beating against the wall with every shake of his hips.

“Hi boy,” I say, scratching him nice and good behind the ear so that his back leg does a little wiggle-jiggle action. “Where’s your dad?”

The scraggly mutt we adopted a few years back turns in a circle, excited to have me home.

“All right, all right. C’mon, let’s go find him.”

Our small bungalow on the East side of Austin is dark, save for the light in the hallway. I pass the kitchen and peer inside. It’s mostly tidy, but there are a few leftover dishes in the sink from Aiden’s dinner, probably. On days when he has a deadline looming, dishes tend to pile up.

In the door to our bedroom, I kick off my heels and groan in pleasure when my bare feet touch solid ground again. Soon, I’ll swap my little black dress for a pair of pajamas and everything will be right in the world.

I don’t usually get home this late, but I had to accompany Elise to a dinner with a client. It’s part of my job now that I’ve moved up in the agency. I don’t mind it either—good food, good company—but I missed Aiden. He’s been busy the last few days, more so than usual.

I turn back down the hall and Stanley trots beside me. If he ever gets too far ahead, he loops back to me again, as if impatient with how slow I walk compared to him.

I dip my head into the living room, but Aiden’s not there.

I flip off the TV and fold a throw blanket, tidying up before I head back out into the hall.

Our guest bathroom is empty, as is the guest bedroom.

I hear the telltale sound of a pinging keyboard as I get closer to our small office. The door is mostly closed, but I toe it open another few inches. Aiden doesn’t notice. I doubt he’s noticed that the room is pitch-black either. His eyes have slowly adjusted to it. He sits behind his computer screen, his focus on the words he’s writing. His expression screws up, as if he’s not happy with something, then his fingers start flying again. I listen to the sound of the keyboard as he types rapidly, and it proves as soothing as a lullaby.