Matt’s hands reach out and cover mine. They are calm and reassuring, which makes the shaking stop.
I glance up at him, and he’s looking at me with such love that my heart actually hurts a tiny bit.
But in a good way. In a painfully, pleasurable way.
Matt nimbly plucks the ring from the packet and pulls the tape off. I watch like I’m in a dream as he pulls the papers from my hands and sets them down. Then he takes my left hand and slides the ring on.
Neither of us has said a word, and the room is heavy with emotion.
I look down at my hand, at the ring sparkling and Matt’s hand holding mine. Looking back up, I hold his gaze and his smile wraps around me like a blanket.
“Will you?” he asks simply.
The great Matthew Fucking Connover, the King of Prose and Wordsmith Genius has no great speech prepared for me. He just has a simple question, and I give him my simple answer.
“Yes.”