Page 90 of Lonely Heart
EPILOGUE
MARCO
THREE & A HALF MONTHS LATER
“I have something for you.”
I’d just walked into the bedroom and saw Ivy sitting on top of the blanket, ready for bed. We weren’t planning to go to sleep just yet, but this had become part of our regular routine.
And I loved it.
I loved walking into this bedroom—now, our bedroom, considering she’d officially moved in and got rid of her place—and knowing we’d spend some time talking to each other about our days before we’d either cuddle up to watch a movie and make love or skip the movie altogether and go right to the lovemaking.
But today was different.
Because today I was going to mark this moment with something else.
“You have something for me?” Ivy asked. “Is it… Wait, what’s today? Did I miss some special occasion?”
I tipped my head to the side and smirked. “It would require a fair amount of thought to come up with what today is. But I promise you haven’t missed some major holiday.”
Curiosity washed over her expression. She looked utterly adorable. “What’s going on?”
I crossed the room and made it to the bed, where I pulled the rectangular wrapped gift out from behind my back.
Her gorgeous lips parted in shock, and she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t miss a special occasion, but I’m getting a gift?”
Smiling, I confirmed, “You are.”
Ivy took the gift from me, a bit of caution in her movements. Her beautiful blue eyes darted between the gift in her hands and me. “What is it? What did I miss?”
I shrugged. “Open it, and it’ll all make sense.”
She returned her attention to the gift, tore off the wrapping paper, and revealed a plain white box. After removing the lid, she pushed the tissue paper out of the way and gasped, lifting her fingers up to cover her lips. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You made this?”
I rounded the bed to her side, sat down, and nodded. “It’s the first thing I made with the tools you bought me for my birthday. The thing is, today marks six months.”
Her brows pulled together. “Six months? Six months for what?”
“It’s been six months to the day since you made that Marry Me Chicken dish, and if I recall correctly, you said you expected a proposal within six months,” I reminded her. Tears filled her eyes, and I brought my hand to the woodcarving I’d done for her. It was a list of all the important dates in our lives, our names carved into the wood above the dates. “This is the date you made the chicken for me. This is the day of our first official date. This is the day I fell in love with you. And this, I hope, is going to be the day of our engagement, the day you tell me you’ll spend the rest of your life with me.”
As a tear rolled down her cheek, I pulled the ring box out of my pocket. I opened it up, presenting it to her, and said, “The bottom half of this carving isn’t finished, Ivy. I need to add our wedding date. And eventually, as they come, I’ll add the birth dates of our babies. All you need to do is accept this ring, Princess. Tell me you’ll marry me, and I’ll make sure we finish the carving.”
Ivy had been holding her breath, but the minute I finished speaking, the air rushed out of her. “I’ll marry you.”
I took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her finger. Once it was resting at the base of her finger, I framed her face in my hands and kissed her. “I love you, Ivy.”
“I love you, too. Is this real?”
“It’s real.”
“We’re going to get married?”
“You pick the date, and it’s going to happen.”
“And you want to have babies with me?”
“I can’t wait to make them.” I grinned at her.