Page 195 of Dream On

He doesn’t miss a beat. “That I want to marry you one day.”

My lungs collapse on a stunned breath. “What? Are you proposing?” My hand drops to his thigh, my nails burrowing into his pantleg. “Lex. Oh my God. I’m going to fall off the roof.”

“That would track.” He harnesses the grin, dusting a finger down my jaw. “I’m not prepared for a grand proposal—and trust me, it will be fucking impressive—but yes, I want to marry you someday, and I can’t not tell you this while we’re sitting up here on your roof.” Lex takes both of my hands in his until we’re facing each other, the stars glowing brighter, his pale-blue eyes shimmering with purpose and conviction. “I have an idea for a ring. It’ll take some time to make it perfect, and it’s not a six-figure diamond or anything flashy, but it’s you. It’s us. And when the moment is right, I’m going to get down on one knee and do it the right way.”

“Yes.” A sob of joy expels like water.

“I haven’t officially asked you yet.”

“My answer will be yes.”

“Yeah?” His eyes close, the creases on his face softening. “I don’t know what the future holds or where we’ll end up, and fuck, I don’t even know if I can live up to everything you deserve,” he says. “But I have two hands that will hold you forever, a voice that will sing to you until we take our last breaths, and eyes that will see you for all that you are, every day, every minute, just as you’ve seen me.” He pulls me closer, our hairlines touching. “You’re it for me, Nicks. You’ve always been it for me.”

“You’re it for me too,” I whisper back, brushing my thumbs along his cheeks. My tears fall like warm rain as I hold him tight, every inch of me on fire. “Come what may, right?”

He presses a sensual kiss to my mouth and breathes out, “Come what will.”

We pull apart, and I glance over his head at the stretch of stars, my eyes landing on my favorite twinkling jewel: my Morrison star. I rest my cheek against Lex’s chest, our hands linking together, just like they had when we were kids, and our hearts beating in perfect rhythm.

And then I thank the sky for giving me the best star of all.

Chapter 46

Lex

The California sun splashes little beams of light on her mane of dark hair. Her hand is tucked inside mine as we stroll across a downtown sidewalk, my sunglasses and baseball cap doing what they can to shield my identity from probing eyes.

She gives my palm a squeeze. “We should grab curtains for the new condo.”

“I could do curtains.” I glance across the street at a group of young girls pointing and giggling in our direction. “Then food?”

“Food?” She beams. “Say less. I’m dying to try that place off Sunset with the rainbow umbrellas.”

The air is hot and balmy, our hands slick as they intertwine. We pass a street vendor juggling fruits, his radio blasting ’80s funk music. A chaotic mural stretches across a wide building, a clash of bold colors that makes me pause. The aroma of street tacos wafts underneath my nose while a woman on roller skates glides past, trailing a line of pink balloons. It’s an ordinary day in Los Angeles.

Isn’t that how it always starts?

Tragedy never announces itself.

That’s what makes it so devastating—it lurks in the ordinary, in the deceptively normal moments and intervals of day-to-day life. Every terrible ending begins as just another day.

Until it isn’t.

Today was nothing special. We went for a walk in the park after making pancakes in the new cast-iron skillet I bought last week. We laughed about the shapes, none of them spheres—one looked like a lopsided heart, another a squashed star. Then we grabbed coffee just after ten a.m. at a new café that was advertising a specialty lavender latte my fiancée couldn’t resist trying. Now we’re shopping for curtains and furniture for the new condominium.

Basic. Routine.

Ordinary.

My eyes catch sight of a woman in a grayish beanie and a baggy plaid top, the fabric hanging loosely over her frame. Colorless hair spills out from beneath the hat, falling in messy waves over her face. She hovers near a fire hydrant, fidgeting, her hands jammed deep into the pockets of her oversize coat. She’s unremarkable at first glance, but there’s a rawness to her, a coiled tension that sends a chill up my spine.

I tug my girl closer by the hand, and she smiles up at me.

“Oh!” She points to the right at the colorful signage. “Bookstore?”

“Do you need more books?”

“I don’t understand the question.”