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Britain stood up from her seat on the bed and began pacing the floor. "You did, but how in the hell are we supposed to do that—" she aggressively pointed at the ring, "when you plan on flying to fucking Italy this weekend?"

"Can you just calm down?" he attempted to reason with Britain, who felt the need to work herself up over something that could be solved in a matter of seconds.

"No, I'm not gonna calm down!" Britain shook her head as she continued to stress. "Just this morning, I was coming to terms with the fact that I have to let you go in order for you to come back to me with all the right pieces of yourself! Then, I tried to jump in front of a fucking bullet for you because I realized that I can't live without you!" Britain stressed with deep frustration. "Then, I find a ring that represents everything you've ever promised me, and now you expect me to calm down?! You just made this harder for me!"

Priest knew it wouldn't benefit either of them if he fought her fire with his own. Instead, he remained silent, eyeing her as she fumed in frustration. He was notorious for his bad timing. He was never punctual and was always expected to be late. In this situation, it was no different. He just had bad timing.

"Another thing! How do you expect me to nurse you back to health from this when you're all the way in Italy?! You think I trust you to be able to take care of yourself?! You don't evenknow how many painkillers to take when you have a damn headache! You call me for everything!"

"Is that what you really wanna fuss about or are you just spiraling?" Priest questioned with a weak smirk. Britain halted her pacing, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Priest, I don't think you understand the severity of this situation. I don't think you ever understand the severity of any situation," she fumed.

"Britain, I'm alive," he reminded her as he motioned toward his wounds. "Our biggest concern was either of us dying."

"And what about that?" Britain pointed at the ring once more.

Priest reached over, grabbing the velvet box. She watched as he shut the box, only for him to toss it aside carelessly. "Fuck the ring, Britain. It's clear that you're not ready for it."

"Don't put words in my mouth. I never said that," Britain corrected him.

Priest screwed up his face questioningly."Then what's the issue, Britain?"

"Italy," Britain blurted out. "That's the issue."

"Fine, Britain. I'll stay. Problem solved?" he decided, causing Britain to contort her face into a dissatisfied expression.

She shook her head, disapproving of his resolution to their issue. "No, you don't get to do that. I'm not about to be that person who held you back from doing something for yourself," Britain told him. "Then I'll have to live with your passive aggressiveness about you sacrificing the first thing you wanted to do for yourself to keep me happy."

Priest sighed. "But you aren't that person, Britain. I'm not leaving because of you. I want you to come with me," he explained to her. "This ring, it isn't an incentive or something to pressure you. The only reason I haven’t proposed yet is because I wanted to do it right."

Britain glanced down at the velvet box before shifting her soft brown eyes over to him. Priest reached out for her, making sure to be cautious of his injuries. She huffed before placing her hand in his.

"I ruined your well-deserved proposal," Priest muttered, causing a chuckle to slip out of her.

Her laughter digressed once she locked eyes with Priest. "P, are you serious about this because this is a big step? We have a lot going on with Italy and now this." She gestured toward his bandaged gunshot wound that had just gotten stitched up.

Priest seemed to disregard Britain's second guessing as he grabbed the box. He managed to open it, revealing her ring. She tried her best to contain her smile as she watched Priest take the ring out of the box. "I'm serious about this, Britain," he asserted as he took ahold of her left hand. "We can make it all work. You just have to try with me."

Britain gazed at Priest. This was a big step to take, and his confidence made her feel secure, but she still had her own reservations. Her worries all came down to how they could uphold their relationship with Italy being such a prominent aspect of Priest's next stages of life. Britain inhaled a deep breath before nodding her head. "We compromise. I’ll have to be back and forth," she bargained.

"For how long?" Priest asked.

"Until I'm ready to leave New York for good.”

Priest wasn't too fond of the idea of Britain juggling two different lives and not being on one accord with him, but this was what compromise was all about. He nodded his head, agreeing with her suggestion. "And we don't tell anyone that I'm going to Italy with you until I’m ready," Britain added.

Priest furrowed his brows as a questioning expression etched his face. "You ashamed of me now?"

"Never. It's just—" She huffed out some air, trying her best to find the words to explain. "I've done this before. Concede to a man I love because of his promises. I've worked hard to prove to everyone that I don't fit that narrative anymore. Don't make this a repeat." She shook her head with pleading eyes.

He pulled her closer, applying a light kiss on her head. "Gioia, you aren't conceding to me. This is a decision that we've come to terms with together. You do as you wish, G. I'll never allow you to become that girl again."

"Alright. I trust you," Britain told him, a light smile gracing her face that Priest mirrored.

He took ahold of her left hand, gliding the ring onto her ring finger. Britain leaned in, pressing her soft lips onto his. "I'm gonna make this up to you. You've got my word," he promised her.

Britain nodded as they pulled away from the kiss. There was a knock at the door. "We got a problem," Remy's voice sounded from the other side of the door.