Bachelor No More

I fell in love with my Warren the day I met him, but I haven’t spoken the words out loud, but that’s changing today. He’s taking me to Fluorescence, the fanciest restaurant in Portland. It’s where weddings happen, and your prom date takes you after he’s saved up from mowing lawns for two years. It’s fancy, fancy and I am just not a fancy woman, but I went shopping and I am determined not to embarrass him.

Warren is an amazing man. Besides working for the Alphas and his various other clients, he does a lot of pro bono work all over the state. How could I not love him? We’ve barely been apart since we met, except for when he’s at work.

I scramble to get ready since he said he’d be here at seven to pick me up, and I lost track of time at the mall.

I zip up the side of the black dress I picked out and slide into my strappy black sandals. I grab my clutch just as he knocks on my door. I reach it quickly and pull it open.

“Damn,” he growls, wrapping his arms around my waist and walking me backward into the living room. He kicks the door closed behind him.

“What? Aren’t we going to be late for dinner?”

“Fuck the reservation. You look entirely too good to go out,” he says, kissing my neck.

“Isn’t that the point of getting dressed up and going out?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want other men to see you,” he says.

“I don’t even notice other men,” I reply honestly.

“Well, they notice you.”

“You’re crazy,” I say, swatting his shoulder.

“I’m not. You don’t notice it, but everywhere we go, they stare at you. They want what they can’t have.”

“Warren, what has gotten into you? That doesn’t make sense. Men don’t pay any attention to me, ever. Not until you.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, practically dragging me over to the wingback chair by the tiny fireplace in the corner of my apartment. “And you don’t even know it, which makes you even more beautiful.”

“What are you trying to say?” I ask, and he drops to one knee in front of me. Oh. My. God. Is this really happening?

“I didn’t believe in marriage. My whole life, everything set me against it, from my own parents who got divorced after six years of marriage because neither of them honored their vows to work where I’ve seen firsthand the damage and havoc divorce leaves in its wake. I didn’t believe in love either. Not until you walked into my office. You were straight out of my fantasies, looking like a prim and proper librarian with black lace panties and a devilish grin. I knew at that moment the things that poets and writers have been talking about for centuries existed, but only with you. You’re the reason I breathe. The reason I was made and you were made to be mine. Surely, you must know that. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone,” he says and takes a deep breath. The entire time he spoke, tears have been building in my eyes. I put my hand on his chest and let the tears fall.

“I love you too, Warren. So fucking much it hurts. You made me believe in those men I write. I thought I pulled them out of thin air, but each one of them is a little bit you.”

“Marry me, Hilda. Let me make you happy for the rest of our lives.”

“I want to make you happy too,” I say, close to sobbing.

“Then say yes,” he replies in a growly voice that sets me on fire.

“Yes.”

“Thank fuck,” he says, pulling a ring box out of his coat pocket. He opens it and shows me a platinum ring with a small princess cut diamond and then slides it on. It’s perfect. “I had this whole thing planned at the restaurant, but seeing you, knowing you,” he begins.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have liked that. This is perfect.”

Then he kisses me, and I am lost to him. I practically float to the bedroom, where he peels me out of the dress, and I pull my hair down out of the elegant twist I did.

“Never change, Hilda. And never stop loving me,” he says. He sounds so serious like he really believes that could happen. I watch as he removes his coat and his shirt. For the first time, I realize just how much gray hair he has. It covers his chest and the goatee he has now. My very own silver fox, I drop to my knees in front of him and work his belt and pants open, sliding them down his legs along with his boxers.

“Why would I go and do a stupid ass thing like that?” I ask before gripping his big, hard dick in my fist and bringing it to my lips. I feel like a goddess like this, though I am on my knees for him; I know that I am in charge of this. This intimate act is a powerful one. When he growls and pulls my hair, I know that I’ve got him.