Page 149 of Ghosts Don't Cry

“Ronan …”

“I love you, Lily.” My heart is pounding in my ears. “Marry me?”

She blinks. Stares at me some more. “That’s not funny.”

I flip the box open, revealing the ring inside. A band with a diamond surrounded by rubies. Simple. Classic. Perfect.

Lily swallows. “How long have you been carrying that around?”

“A while, trying to figure out the right time.”

She releases a shaky breath. “And this is it?”

I tilt my head. “You sent me a naked photograph during Thanksgiving dinner at your mom’s house. You tell me.”

She stares at me for a second longer … then she launches herself at me, kissing me so hard we almost knock the lamp off the nightstand. She’s kissing me, crying, and laughing all at once.

“Yes,” she breathes against my mouth. “Yes … a thousand times yes. I love you so much.”

I slide the ring onto her finger, watching the way it catches the light. Perfect. Just like her. Wrapping my arms around her, I tilt her head up so I can kiss her.

“I think I’ve loved you since the first note you wrote me. I just didn’t think I would be allowed to keep you.”

“You know now, though?” Her voice is soft, vulnerable in a way that undoes me.

“Yeah.” I press my forehead to hers. “I know now.”

She kisses me again, then pulls back, eyes widening. “Oh god, now we have to go back out there. What do we say?”

I dip my head to kiss her shoulder. “We can tell them we got engaged in the guest room.”

“We are absolutelynottelling them that.”

The smile on my lips feels more natural than it ever has before. “We’ll see.”

She gets dressed while I help, both of us stealing kisses, her looking at the ring every few seconds like she can’t believe it’s real. Before we leave the room, I pull her close one more time.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For writing those notes and seeing me. For not giving up on me.” I cup her face. “For teaching me that ghosts can stop haunting and start living.”

Her eyes fill with tears again. “I love you, Ronan.”

“I love you, too.”

I spent years believing some people were never meant to belong. That my story was written in disappearing ink—there one moment, and gone the next.

I believed that a story like mine wouldn’t have a happy ending.

But this one does.

Because she refused to let me disappear. She saw poetry in my words and possibility in my broken pieces. She taught me that love isn’t about being perfect, it’s about showing up, even when it’s hard.

Especiallywhen it’s hard.

And because she’s in it.

Every page. Every word. Every moment.

The End