Page 1 of The Restoration Program

BEFORE

Ryan refused to believe Nicole was going to die before he got a chance to marry her.

“Sir! Sir, you can’t go in there!”

The nurse’s shouts fell on deaf ears as Ryan burst past the double doors to follow the gurney, nearly slipping on the rainwater that dripped from his clothes. A pair of footsteps chased after him.

Paramedics surrounded the gurney and exchanged clipped commands. They were almost robotic. Ryan’s breath stuttered when he finally caught a glimpse of her between the hospital personnel. Nicole looked nothing like herself. Thick gashes and discoloration protruded beneath a cloudy oxygen mask, marring her face beyond recognition. Even secured to the gurney, her body looked battered beyond repair.

Amidst the chaos, the heart monitor blared unceasingly.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A voice snapped from behind. “Mr. Northe! You need to come back!”

“Nicole!” Ryan caught up, forcing a gap between the medics. “Nicole, I’m here! I’m here.”

One of the nurses gripped his arm. “You need to stay back! I won’t ask again. We’ll do everything we—”

He muscled himself free, racing to keep up with the gurney. He cried her name, begged her to wake up, but her eyes remained shut. Three staff members restrained him while Nicole was wheeled away through another set of doors. All the fight left his body when she vanished. The world spun violently, every sound assaulting him.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“She’s not gone, right?” He turned to one of the nurses, manic. “Tell me she’s going to make it.Please.”

“She’s going into surgery. Let us do our jobs, and we’ll do everything we can to help.”

Ryan stared straight ahead, unable to catch his breath. Every sense blurred, every sound beyond her heart monitor ebbed and faded. Part of him wanted to chase after Nicole. Part of him wanted to collapse where he stood. But as the hospital workers tried to coax him back into the waiting room, he stayed rooted, gaze distant.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was as jarring as his phone alarm—the one that had woken him up that morning.

The bed had already been empty when his eyes fluttered open. He’d fumbled to shut off the damn alarm, intrigued by the smell of coffee in the air. It was barely six-thirty. Nicole was never up that early.

He threw on his joggers and glanced cautiously at the door before kneeling to reach behind the nightstand drawer. There was a nook in the back, perfect for hiding the ring box. It was one of the few places he knew Nicole wouldn’t come across it by accident in all the shuffling during the move.

The weight of the world seemed to rest within the box he held in his palm. He slipped it into his pocket, as he did every morning. Maybe this would be the day that spontaneity possessed him to pop the question.

Soft sounds of movement led him to the kitchen. The stale smell of new paint was masked by maple sausages and pancakes.

A sapphire-blue slip hung off Nicole’s slender frame. She stood by the stove with a spatula in hand, scrutinizing a bubbling circle of batter.

He hovered in the doorway and imagined himself sneaking up from behind and dropping to one knee behind her. His hand twitched for his pocket, but she caught sight of him before he could follow through. She brightened at once, beckoning.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Ryan said, accepting the coffee she offered him. “You must’ve been up since five, at least.”

“I know. I’m just the best.” Nicole’s dark hair was still down—he loved the way her soft tresses looked when she first woke up: tousled, effortless, and begging to be played with.

A glint shined in her eyes this morning. She licked pancake batter off her thumb, her gaze simmering as she made sure he heard thepopof her lips against her skin.Daringhim to do something about it.

Who would refuse?

Ryan all but tossed his mug aside to corner her against the counter and kiss her until she twisted away to rescue the burning pancake. He let his hips rest heavily against her ass, arms wrapped around her waist as she shuffled the pancake onto a plate. Part of him hoped she’d feel the box in his pocket and comment on it.

Do you have something in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

Both. Will you marry me?