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Marcus and I had both ordered crème brulee, which was quite possibly the best thing I’ve eaten in my entire life.
With everyspoonful, I keep looking at the ring, not quite believing it’s real.
The desserts finish and the tables are cleared, and an announcement is made stating that another round of drinks would be available at the bar while the tables are cleared away to make a dance floor.
Within ten minutes, a DJ had set up on the stage and the lights shift, casting a soft glow as music begins to pulse through the space.
The first notes hit the air, and I smile.Training Season.Our song.
The one that played the night everything changed.
Marcus finishes his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. He holds out his hand with a slow, knowing smile.
“Care to join me for a dance,fiancée?”
“Absolutely,fiancée,” I say, and we glide onto the dance floor and don’t let go of each other until the music stops at the end of the night.
As the evening comes to an end and people start to leave, many come up to us and congratulate us again with more hugs.
Finally, when about half of the room has emptied out, Marcus leans in to whisper in my ear. “I’ve got one more surprise.”
I blink at him, my eyes wide with bewilderment. “Another surprise?”
He nods, his eyes sparkling. “Come.”
He grabs my hand and starts walking fast.
I follow, heart pounding, heels clicking on the floor behind him as we exit the ballroom into the main lobby.
“This way,” he says, pulling me towards the lift.
The doors open and Marcus presses the button for the top floor.
Amusement twinkles in my eyes as I wonder what in the world he’s up to, but he just smiles at me and winks.
The lift opens and we walk down the corridor until Marcus stops outside a door, reaching inside his pocket from where he had pulled the ring box, except this time he pulls out a hotel key card.
He smiles and opens the door.
“After you.”
A trail of rose petals strewn across the floor leads a path towards the bed, and a bucket of champagne in ice stands waiting for us on the vanity. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the city skyline below, where the lights of Manchester sparkle and shine.
“Marcus, you didn’t have to do all this,” I say, turning to him with a smile.
“I wanted to,”
He closes the space between us, his arms sliding around my waist as he looks into my eyes.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
He smiles, his knuckles brushing softly against my cheek.
“I was so nervous tonight,” he says quietly. “Thinking you might say no.”
My heart pulls tight. I take his face into my hands, letting him see everything I feel. My heart melts from the vulnerability I see, the softness I know is reserved only for me.
“Marcus Andersson,” I whisper. “I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you the very first day I met you.”
He presses his lips to mine, slow and reverent, and when we finally fall back onto the bed – rose petals catching against bare skin and laughter between kisses – it feels as though the world has narrowed to just this. Just us.
Above me, the ceiling blurs through happy tears.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t wonder what comes next.