Nick
The stars are out in full force, scattered across the clear winter sky. It’s as if the universe wanted to give us the best possible view for stargazing, knowing my plans. Rachel and I looking upward, naming the constellations, tracing the familiar shapes we found together once upon a time. Drinking hot cocoa, her body snuggled close to mine. Making a New Year’s wish as the clock strikes midnight, then getting down on one knee to propose to her.
It’s the ultimate wish—spending the rest of my life with her.
It seems Rachel didn’t get the memo, though.
She’s curled into the passenger seat of my truck, bundled in a knit scarf and my too-big flannel, her breath coming in slow puffs against the cold window as she sleeps. Her lashes rest like dark smudges on her cheeks, exhausted from her shift at the bakery. She swore she could stay up until midnight, even as she was yawning at nine.
My fingertips brush against the velvet ring box in my coat pocket, an action I’ve been doing habitually over the last few months, waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question. When it dawned on me that I could recreate one of our first dates and combine it with a New Year’s wish, the idea had seemed instantly right.
Yes, Rachel’s normal sleep schedule had been a concern, but I thought she would push through it, the way she did last New Year’s Eve, excited to ring in the new year together. Even so, watching her sleep, I swear I’ve never loved her more than I do right now. I don’t need to wait for the stroke of midnight to know what we have is already perfect. I’ll propose tomorrow—a fresh start to our life.
I crank up the truck’s heater on the drive home, not wanting Rachel to get too chilly as the temperature outside drops further, but she doesn’t stir. She rouses slightly as I carry her inside, but drifts asleep again as I lay her in our bed. It had taken me a while after moving in to her house to think of it as mine, too, but I’m there now.
After slipping off her shoes, I tug our thick winter comforter over her, watching as she nestles into the blanket, a peaceful expression on her face. She has no idea how much she’s changed my life, how much she’s my everything. Forever is on the tip of my tongue, this ring burning a hole in my pocket, but like I told her a year and a half ago, I’m not going anywhere. I can wait for one more day.
I trail a hand gently over her cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Even in her sleep, she leans into my touch, and damn if that doesn’t make me the luckiest man alive.
Now to wait for her to say yes.
***
Rachel
The house is quiet as I stare at the ceiling, my eyes adjusted to the dark. I wish I was one of those people who can sleep in on their days off, but I’m hard-wired by now to wake before dawn, baker’s hours ingrained in me.
I finally get out of bed, abandoning the fantasy of sleeping in, and gather Nick’s things off the floor, the way I do every morning. The man is a hero at the fire station, but a tornado at home, much messier than he led me to believe when we first started dating. He has more than enough redeeming qualities to make up for it, though.
Guilt tugs at me as I neatly fold his jeans and throw his shirt from yesterday in the hamper, remembering how excited he’d seemed to go out stargazing last night. I really thought I could make it to midnight, but the last thing I remember was how heavy my eyes had been as he’d pointed out Orion’s Belt through the windshield. Inside the cab of his truck, all comfy and burrowed into Nick’s flannel, it had been an exercise in futility to stay awake.
Maybe we could try again tonight, if he’s up for it.
As I bring his coat to the closet to hang up, my hand brushes against something solid in the pocket. I frown and tug it out, then nearly drop it as my heart stumbles.
It’s a velvet box.
I stare at it as if it might vanish, not quite believing what I’m holding. No wonder Nick was excited. He was going to propose.
He was going to ask me to marry him.
Emotion wells like a rising tide. Shock. Warmth. And a love so big, it makes my eyes sting.
Oh God, I hope I didn’t ruin everything.
I quickly stuff the box back in the coat pocket, unwilling to open it and peek inside, though I’m sorely tempted. If I already spoiled the surprise of the proposal, the least I can do is wait to see the ring.
I pad out of the closet on soft feet, looking over at Nick in bed. A rush of affection fills me, appreciating his steady strength and devotion. Nothing shakes his love for me, and I know deep in my heart he’ll always be there for me, through thick and thin, no matter what. There’s no other person I’d rather spend my life with.
I finish cleaning up, then head into the kitchen, deciding to make cinnamon rolls for breakfast.
I’m just taking them out of the oven hours later when Nick stumbles in, rubbing his eyes.
“Morning,” he croaks, still half-asleep as he takes a seat at the table.
“Good morning.” I pour him a cup of coffee, adding in cream and sugar the way he likes it, and hand it to him. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year,” he repeats, clearly not fully with it yet as he sips from his mug.
I prepare us both a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls, and he smiles at me blearily as he takes his.
“You’re in a good mood,” he says, tearing off a piece and popping it in his mouth.
“I am?”
He nods. “You’re humming.”
Oh. I didn’t realize. “Sorry.”
He stops me from bustling around the kitchen and pulls me onto his lap. “What do you mean, sorry? I love listening to you.”
“No you don’t. I sound terrible.”
“You sound beautiful to me.”
The sentiment would be nicer if his eyes weren’t still half-closed with sleep.
“When did you go to bed? Did you make it to midnight?”
“Nah. Wasn’t worth it without you.”
There’s that tug of guilt again. “Sorry I conked out so early.”
“Hey, it was a risk I was well aware of before driving out there.” He nuzzles his nose into my neck. “Mmm, you smell like cinnamon.”
“I think those are the rolls.”
“No, it’s you. My cinnamon girl.”
I grin, loving his half-asleep words.
“You always smell so good,” he continues. “I love you.”
My smile grows. “I love you, too.”
I sit comfortably on his lap, sharing his cinnamon roll with him, and a few minutes later, he seems more awake as he asks if I have plans today.
“No. No plans.”
Will he do a makeup proposal today? Or will it be another time?
He nods, taking one last sip of his coffee. “I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“Okay.”
He’s barely gone, though, before striding back into the kitchen. “Where are my clothes from last night?”
I wouldn’t say he’s panicky necessarily, but there’s definitely an edge to him that wasn’t there a minute ago, all traces of sleep gone now.
“I put them away.”
“Okay. My coat?”
“It’s in the closet.”
He nods, eyeing me. I do my best to keep my face neutral, unsure if I should admit to what I found.
His gaze narrows slightly, the tiniest flicker of suspicion in it. “Did you…?”
He doesn’t finish the question, but he doesn’t have to. He can probably hear my heart beating from over there.
My lips part, but nothing comes out.
“Rachel?”
“If you didn’t always leave your clothes on the floor…”
A smile breaks over his lips, but I can’t tell if it’s relief or nervousness. “Are you ready?”
“Of course I’m ready,” I whisper.
His smile shifts into something soft and understanding, full of everything I love about him, and he moves closer. He takes my hand in his, lifting it to his chest where his heart is beating fast. “I’m a little nervous,” he admits.
“Me, too.”
“I meant to do this last night.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve already given me everything I could ever want. What’s one more day?” His hand squeezes mine, his palm still as calloused as ever, and gently lets go, then lowers to one knee. “Rachel, I love you beyond words. And I want to spend the rest of our lives making sure you never forget how much you mean to me. I—”
He cuts off suddenly, his eyes widening. “Shit. The ring.”
He pops up and disappears to our bedroom, and I cover my mouth to contain my laugh. Or maybe it’s a sob, I’m not sure. All I know is there’s too much happiness bursting inside me to be contained.
When he returns, chagrin is all over face. “I knew I’d mess this up somehow,” he murmurs.
“No, it’s perfect. Honestly.”
“We’ve been through it, haven’t we? Fire and chaos and underwear that didn’t belong to anyone.”
I let out a shaky laugh, and he smiles before going serious.
“I’d do it all again if it meant I end up here with you. Every time.” He kneels once more and opens the velvet box. “Will you marry me?”
I can’t even see the ring through my suddenly watery eyes, but I manage to choke out, “Yes.”
He slips the ring on my finger and then he’s there, embracing me, his body wrapping around mine so completely, I don’t know where I end and he begins.
“I love you,” I mumble, trying to work past the lump in my throat. “So much.”
“Love you,” he says back, his lips finding mine.
The kiss is gentle at first, slow and warm and grounding me in that way Nick is so good at. The sudden tears disappear, and as it goes on, he leads us to the bedroom.
I’m happy to follow, loving when he takes the tie from my hair to let it spill over my shoulders and down my back. He sinks his hands into it, pulling me closer, his mouth hungry now.
“I can’t believe I get to have you for the rest of our lives,” he murmurs. “I’m the luckiest damn man alive.”
No, I’m the lucky one. But I’ll let him think that if it means he keeps kissing me, his hands everywhere, pulling at my clothes. We tumble onto the bed and his lips move to the stretches of skin he exposes—my neck, my collarbone, my cleavage, my—
“Yes, right there.” I moan as his lips close over my nipple, a flush spreading over me, revving me up even more.
He settles into a rhythm, alternating between leisurely licks and hard sucks that drive me wild. I’m already panting by the time he snakes a hand between us, his thumb pressing directly where I need him.
“Harder,” I tell him, lifting my hips to create more friction, and when he does what I ask, it tips me over the edge, a pleasurable warmth buzzing through me.
“Jesus, I barely touched you.” His lips travel down my stomach, to the top of my pants. “I turn you on that much?” He looks up at me, a cocky smirk on his face.
I’m still trying to get my breathing under control. “Should we test it on you next?”
Reaching out, I stroke him over his pajama pants, and he groans. “Have mercy on me.”
I tug at his clothes, and he quickly gets the message, stripping everything off. His cock juts out in front of him, hard and ready for me, and I rub my thumb over the head, spreading the precum around.
He’s sweating, staring down at where I’m touching him like he’s having a religious experience. “Let me come inside you. Please.”
I nod, slipping off the rest of my clothes as he gets a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on. He parts my thighs and settles over me, guiding himself inside.
I’m already slick for him, arousal from my orgasm letting him slide in seamlessly, and he makes a sound of satisfaction as he gathers me close, his hand settling on my hip to leverage himself against me.
His strokes are slow at first, easing us into it, and I glide my hands over his broad shoulders, reveling in the feel of him, the way he surrounds me. My new ring catches my attention, and I finally get a glimpse of it, marveling at the size. I can’t believe he got something this big.
I’m instantly in love, even as a thread of guilt runs through me. I can’t wear this while baking—it’s too nice. Maybe I can find a silicone band to wear while I’m working, then wear this when I’m off the clock.
He picks up the pace and all thoughts of my ring are forgotten, my hips rising to meet each stroke, flames licking through my veins.
“God, I can’t wait till you’re my wife,” he whispers, rocking into me in a way that has want and need growing at a rate faster than my body can handle.
Wife. I hadn’t thought of that yet, and the word sends a fresh sizzle of desire through me. “My future husband,” I murmur, stroking a hand through his hair.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, his rhythm faltering. “Say that again.”
I grin, loving discovering another weakness of his. “My husband. You’re mine, Nick. Forever.”
His hips go jerky, his hold on me tightening as lets out a second low groan.
His orgasm kicks off my own, a cry catching in the back of my throat as all that need catches up with me, leaving me a whimpering mess against the covers.
He kisses me deeply when we’re both finished, his hand finding my left ring finger to gently trace the shape of the ring. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
“Me, too.”
With Nick, forever starts now.
Allie Winters 