Page 68 of Midnight Between Us (The Timberbridge Brothers #4)

Keir

The air is cool and still, the kind of crisp that kisses your lungs clean.

Water laps gently at the edges of the lake, carrying the reflection of lights strung across the wooden railing like something pulled out of a dream.

Everything glows—the lanterns, the stars above, the woman standing just a few feet away with her hands in the pockets of her coat, pretending she doesn’t know what’s about to happen.

She knows.

Simone always knows.

I built this place—tucked just beyond the tree line, a hidden gem only I knew how to shape.

The bridge is lined in warm lights and battery candles, soft enough not to blind, but just bright enough to make the world feel wrapped in something rare.

Like an enchanting forest that only exists because I wanted it to.

Sims turns, and I nearly forget how to breathe.

She’s in a black dress that falls just above her knees, long sleeves hugging her arms, her hair twisted up with strands falling around her face like she didn’t try too hard. Which is exactly what makes her dangerous. She’s always been the most devastating when she’s not trying.

She raises an eyebrow. “So . . . what is this meteor shower at midnight that we have to see?”

I swallow around the knot in my throat. “It’s coming.”

She looks around. “But do we need these many lights for that?”

I walk toward her slowly, the ring box burning a hole in my pocket. The wooden platform creaks gently beneath my steps. “Honestly, I wanted you to see what it’s like when I think about forever during midnight.”

She looks around—the lights, the candles, the reflections shimmering on the water—and something softens in her expression. Her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile.

“Somehow, I feel like we’re being a little dramatic today, Timberbridge.”

I stop in front of her. Close enough to feel the warmth coming off her skin. “Only for you.”

She doesn’t say anything. Her fingers twitch slightly at her sides, like they’re debating reaching for me.

I drop to one knee.

Her breath catches.

“I used to think I wasn’t the kind of man who got to have this. Who deserved a future that didn’t come with strings and landmines and a thousand ways to lose the things he loved most.”

She blinks. Her hand covers her mouth. The candles flicker around her like they know they’re standing in the presence of something holy.

“I was wrong.”

The confession stings on its way out, scraping against everything I’ve buried and everything I’ve ruined.

I reach into my jacket pocket. The velvet box presses into my fingers, worn at the edges. I’ve carried it around, waiting for a moment I thought might never come. Until I decided to plan it for the perfect moment. Midnight.

When I open it, the world hushes.

The ring is a vintage rose gold setting that holds an elongated cushion-cut diamond, haloed in delicate scrollwork. The band—lined with tiny diamonds—feels like a trail back to her. Every detail carved with purpose. Like her. Like us. It’s not flashy. It’s hers.

“I didn’t pick this because it was expensive.” I cradle the box in my palm like it might explain everything I can’t say. “I picked it because it felt like you. Beautiful without trying. Bold without needing to be loud. It’s as if it already belonged to you before I even knew you’d say yes.”

I watch her face as the ring catches the light between us. Her breath hitches just slightly. Her eyes burn—not with uncertainty, but with knowing.

“Because somehow,” I continue, “I still get to be here. With you. In this moment.”

And then I let it all go.

“I want to love you in all the ways you’ve always wanted. The ways you’ve always deserved. The ways that leave no trace of fear in that brilliant mind of yours. I want you to wake up beside me every morning and know—not wonder, not hope—that you are home.”

Her lips part. Her chin tilts just barely like she’s bracing herself for impact.

“I love you, Simone. And I don’t want to keep counting time in regret.

I want the years ahead to be measured in kisses, kids, and laughter.

In quiet mornings and loud fights and ridiculous traditions and every small, ordinary thing we never thought we’d get.

I want your cold feet in the middle of the night.

I want coffee-stained counters and crooked photo frames. ”

I exhale, the words I never said pressing just beneath my breath, too heavy to name now.

“I want forever—with all its imperfect, brutal, beautiful shit. With you. Only you.”

I look up at her when I ask, “Will you marry me?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, she kneels too—drops to the wooden dock like it’s the only place she’s ever meant to be.

Her dress pools around her thighs, her knees catching against the weather-worn planks as if the whole lake is bowing with her.

She cups my face in both hands, and her touch is fire and forgiveness all at once.

Her lips brush mine—barely there but full of every yes she doesn’t know how to say yet.

And then she breathes it out, right there against my mouth. Broken. Sure.

“Yes.”

Her answer is choked through a laugh that turns into a sob she tries to swallow. Her cheeks are wet. So are mine. We’re a goddamn beautiful mess, except—no. Not a mess. Not anymore. We’re just us. Honest and undone and finally, finally here.

She lets out this half-laugh, half-sob as I pull her into me, pressing her to my chest like I’ll never let her go.

The lake keeps our secret, its surface quiet, mirroring stars we forgot to look at.

Overhead, the string lights sway with the breeze, casting soft gold on her hair, her skin, the tears streaking her cheeks.

Her fingers tremble as I slip the ring on, and I feel it—her breath hitching, her heart thudding against mine like it’s just realized it’s safe to beat without fear again.

And for once, I don’t think about how far I’ve come. Or how close I came to losing her. I don’t think about mistakes or missed chances.

I only think about this.

About her.

About forever—burning quiet and golden in the soft light between us.

And midnight between us, like a promise whispered into time where our past finally fuses with our present and the future.