Page 38 of Ex- Factor

The weight of the session with Dr. Bailey sat on my shoulders like a lead blanket. His final words echoed in my head: “Go do something that’ll make you happy.” It felt less like a suggestion and more like a prescription.

The door swung open before I could knock. A tiny tornado in footie pajamas stood there. “’Las!”

“Hey, little man.” I scooped Ekon up, the solid weight of him an immediate balm—a shot of pure, uncomplicated joy straight to the veins. “We’re going on an adventure.”

An hour and one obscenely expensive children’s boutique later, we were both suited up. Ekon wore a miniature black suit, looking profoundly serious as he examined his tiny leather shoes. I’d opted for a charcoal grey Tom Ford. I buckled him into his car seat.

“Okay, soldier. Mission: Make Eshe Say Yes.”

Ekon pretty much ignored me, kicking his little legs in the backseat, grinning like he’d just won the lottery while watching something on the tablet he was holding. He had no idea what was about to happen.

The rich, savory scent of caramelized onions and garlic hit me the second I opened my front door.

Eshe was in the kitchen, back turned, stirring a pot.

The domesticity of it—the sheer normalcy after the emotional wreckage of the day—stole the air from my lungs.

This. This was what I wanted. It could erase everything else.

I set Ekon down and gave him a gentle nudge. “Go show Eshe how handsome you are.”

He waddled into the kitchen, arms outstretched. “She, she! Look!”

She turned, already smiling. It widened at the sight of the tiny suit. “Oh my goodness! Look at you! You are so—” Her eyes lifted past Ekon, landing on me. Her smile faltered, replaced by warm confusion.

“What’s all this? You two about to pose for GQ , father-son edition?”

I walked to her, heart hammering like it wanted out of my chest. I took her free hand—the one not holding a wooden spoon.

“Dr. Bailey told me to go do something that made me happy today.”

“Okay…” she said, laughing softly. “And playing dress-up did it?”

“This is the pre–happily ever after,” I said, thumb stroking her knuckles. “The main event is this.” I took a breath. “Marry me.”

She blinked. Then she laughed, a full, throaty sound I usually loved. She tried to pull her hand away. “Silas, stop. You’re emotional. It’s been a hell of a day. You don’t mean that.”

“I have never meant anything more in my life,” I said, my voice low, steady.

I held her gaze, hoping she’d see the truth in it.

“I have a ton of decisions to make—big, life-altering ones. And I want you right in the middle of all of them. I want you legally entitled to tell me no. I want you able to tell my family and board members to go fuck themselves. I want you protected. I want you to be my next of kin. I want you to be my wife.”

I nodded to Ekon, who was patiently holding the small black velvet box I’d given him. I took it and flipped it open. The emerald-cut diamond on its platinum band glinted in the kitchen light.

Eshe’s free hand flew to her mouth, her eyes glistening. “Silas…”

“Ekon,” I said, not breaking eye contact with her. “If she says no, you gotta cry. Big, ugly tears.”

Ekon’s little face immediately scrunched into a theatrical pout that was almost too convincing. He was definitely Angel’s child—dramatic and ready to help.

“Don’t you pressure me with that baby,” she whispered, her voice thick.

“I’m pressuring you with all I’ve got. Remember, you get half my money, too.” A slow grin spread across my face. “So? What’s it gonna be, Eshe? You gonna make my son cry?”

She was still silent.

“I’m serious,” I said, voice softening. “Say yes, Eshe. Please.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She looked from my hopeful face to Ekon’s faux-tragic one, then down at the brilliant stone. She let out a watery, overwhelmed laugh. “Yes. Okay. Yes, you ridiculous man.”

I slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly—like it was always meant to be there. I pulled her into a kiss, tasting the salt of her tears and the wine on her lips.

“Good,” I whispered against her mouth. “Because I already set up an appointment at the courthouse… in an hour.”

I walked to the foyer and returned with a garment bag and box. Inside was a simple, exquisite ivory silk slip dress and a pair of blood-red Christian Louboutins. Her size.

“You were awfully sure of yourself,” she said, fingers trailing over the fabric.

“I hedge my bets,” I said, kissing her again. “Now go get more beautiful. We’ve got a date with a justice of the peace.”

An hour Later

In a small, wood-paneled room that smelled like lemon polish, we stood facing each other. Ekon held a tiny pillow with our platinum bands. Two strangers who were scheduled to marry after us had agreed to witness.

The justice of the peace closed her book. “Silas, you may now share your vows.”

I’d asked earlier if I could.

I took both of Eshe’s hands in mine. I hadn’t written anything down. I just looked at her—and I knew.

“Eshe,” I began, my voice rough but steady. “You are the best decision I never saw coming. You’re my peace. You’re my fight. You’re the reason I’m trying to be a better man. I promise to love you, to piss you off, to make you laugh every single day for the rest of my life. I am yours. Completely.”

Tears streamed freely down her face now. When it was her turn, she opened her mouth—but nothing came out. Too choked up. All she could do was squeeze my hands and nod, over and over, a silent, fervent yes.

The justice smiled. “I’ll take that.”

I grinned and wiped her cheek with my thumb. “That’s okay, baby. You can owe me the words. I’ll collect on our fiftieth anniversary.”

Then I kissed her—not waiting for permission. It wasn’t a fairy tale. It was better. It was ours .