Page 150 of Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“What do you mean?”

“Check them out yourself and you tell me.”

Elena reads off each of her vouchers to me. I laugh at the mention of Xanax, shaking my head at how much of a dependent, irritable arsehole I was. She pushed me to want to save myself with a few notes scribbled and hidden inside of my pill bottle.

I grab one of the snow globes and shake it, before twisting the knob at the bottom. The soft melody of Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” plays as I pass her the snow globe.

“No way! Ed Sheeran?”

We remain quiet as the melody plays. Tears run down her face as she reads my note. I try to brush them away, but I miss a few.

Her eyes slide from the snow globe to my face. “I didn’t write that note.”

A soft laugh escapes me. “Obviously not.” My messy Will you marry me? sticks out, unlike her elegant cursive.

“This is crazy.”

“But so real.” I place the snow globe on the shelf and tuck her into my body. Her warmth seeps into me, hitting me with a new wave of happiness.

“It’s way too soon.”

“Nothing in my life is ‘too soon’ anymore.”

“I have a life here.”

I chuckle to myself, loving the rational part of her that needs to question all the possible issues before agreeing. “If you want to stay here, I’ll live here, too. I can travel to and from London more often.”

“You’d do that for me?” She looks up at me with tear-stained cheeks.

“Of course.”

“But what about your mom?”

“I’ll visit her often.”

Elena shakes her head.

My chest becomes tight at her potential rejection. “There’s no point for me to wait for something I know will happen either way. I don’t want to spend another day without you—not anymore with my diagnosis. Whether we start a life in Monaco or London, I only need you. And your grandma because she’s part of the package.”

More tears fall from Elena’s eyes. “Yes.”

I freeze. “Yes, you’ll marry me?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes!” She cups my face with her hands and pulls me down for a kiss. A kiss meant to consume me from the inside out, solidifying my need to keep her forever.

She pulls away. “Yes. Let’s get married!”

“You don’t even want to see the ring first before you agree?”

She drops her head back and laughs. “No. You could offer me a rock from outside and I’d still say yes.”

“I can assure you, it’s a gigantic...rock.”

Her giggle turns into a snort. “Please stop. You’re killing the moment.”

I tug the small box out of my jeans, get down on one knee, and pop open the lid. My hand grips hers in a stronghold. “Elena Gonzalez, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter the place, the time, the issues. You’re the hero in our story, willing to stand by my side, no matter how dark the future looks. All I want to do is make you mine, forever and always. No take backs.”

The same three words are inscribed on the inside of the ring because I’m a sappier motherfucker than my two friends. What can I say? She has a way of bringing that out in me.