Page 122 of Van Cort

“Yes.”

She reaches for her necklace, clasping the small pendant. “Your gold?”

“Also, yes.”

The outer doors close behind us, and the moment they do, she jumps at the sound of the inner mechanisms starting to work, her grip now rivalling mine.

My chin lifts as the doors finally open, and I stare into the space, a snarl forming. Old, now healed bruises seem to swell inside me, rising to the surface. They still hurt, even now. I should have killed him for that. Could have. Didn’t.

I did find this, though.

Letting go of her hand, I head directly to the centre of the room to take the small gold box off its perch. Despite all of the bars of gold, the only thing of any personal merit I found that day was our mother’s engagement ring. It had been hidden here, kept from us. He told me that in one of the many arguments, that I’d never find it or be able to use it. Why should I be allowed to? Why should either of us be able to have something that was so precious to him when we’d taken her from him? We’d never have that kind of love. We didn’t deserve it.

We fucking do.

I turn to find her gingerly entering the vault, hands hovering at her chest and clenched tight as if she’s uncomfortable. She shouldn’t be, because all this can be as much hers as it is mine if she wants. I’ll rip that contract up if she agrees to both of us. That’s all I need in life. Those callous words bound in leather might have been the start of us, but they’re so far from the moment we’ve now arrived in that there’s no point even debating them.

I just want us. All of us.

“I want to marry you, River. I want to live the rest of my life with you as a part of me.” Her eyes widen as I approach her with the box in my hand and flip it open. “Everything in this room pales into insignificance alongside you. Do you see that? You’re my gold. You’re the thing I need.” She looks more shocked than I imagined she would. “Marry me.”

CHAPTER FORTY

RIVER

“I’m sorry, what?” The ringing in my ears won’t stop.

“You heard.”

“No… no… you said words, but…”Is he serious?I need to check because I can’t be right. Air. I’m struggling to concentrate in here. It’s like the walls are closing in around us and-

“I’m asking you to marry me, River.”

Nope. I heard correctly.

The box he thrusts towards me glimmers like everything else in the vault, spun with gleaming yellow and sunset-rich gold. Everything is gold. My eyes spin around, unable to look him in the eye as he just stands there, his arm outstretched.

“Well?” he asks.

“Well, what?” I snap back, adrenaline and panic fuelling my confusion and blocking any real sense. It’s all instinct.

“Do you have an answer?”

I snigger, unable to stop the bubble of hysteria escaping at his impatience. “No.” He’s got to be kidding? Having said that, I have never known Everett to be a joker.

“You’re saying no?” The shock in his voice doesn’t help the hysteria needing to break free again.

I step back carefully, away from the emerald, diamonds and gold staring me in the face. “I’m saying I don’t have an answer.” Breathe. I can’t breathe. We’re in a vault. With armed guards. And he chooses to propose here? Now? “Why? Of all the things you could have said, or done, why did you think proposing would be a good idea?” His brow furrows, like he doesn’t understand the question.

“I love you. I’ve said the words, given you what you want—”

“What I want?” My voice pitches to a higher tone that tells me just how close I am to losing it. “Love isn’t just three words, Everett.” Too fast. This is all too fast. My mind is racing, falling – free-falling through all of our past conversations, every line, every word to try and find the reason as to why he’s done this here and now. The fight, showing up at my door, the date, spending the night, the first time he has, yet he couldn’t manage to wait until morning, so still snuck out, even if he kissed me goodbye.

In Vancouver, he made that little comment when we were in town, but that was only a slip. He wasn’t really thinking seriously, or at least, that’s what I hoped. But now… Is this really what this has all been leading to?

“You want me to be your wife?” I ask, as calmly as possible. Maybe repetition will help me understand.

“Yes.”