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It’s like the entire building has been assigned to keep me out of my own.

Six months ago, this would have had my stomach in knots. Six months ago, I’d have spent the elevator ride building a case out of it.

Tonight, I’m mostly just curious what he thinks he’s getting away with.

Nobody else stops me. I let myself in, and I don’t get three steps before I stop dead.

There are rose petals, red, scattered across the floor, from the doorway into the living room.

“Bishop?” I step out of my shoes and follow the petals. My breath catches at what he’s done to the room. He’s set up a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights beyond twinkling like scattered constellations. The lights inside are dimmed, casting a warm glow over gleaming silverware and crystal glasses. And more flowers everywhere, their delicate scent filling the air.

But underneath it, I smell something else. My eyes fill up with tears.

“Steak frites,” I whisper, turning to the shadow holding a bouquet of red roses by the table. “Did you make it? I can smell it.”

“I did.” He comes toward me, smiling. “I’m no professional, but I hope you like it.”

“I’ll love it.” I fling my arms over his shoulders and hug him tight. “I’ll love it because you made it.”

“Fuck, baby, hearing that makes the burns worth it.”

I laugh through the tears, letting them fall. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I had an ulterior motive.”

“You did?”

He pulls back from the embrace and drops to one knee, taking a velvet box from his pocket and snapping it open. It’s a stunning ring, a large center stone with a halo of tiny rubies around it, catching every light in the room.

The tears are back. “You spoke to my mom.”

“She told me how much you loved rubies when you were small. And I asked her for her blessing.”

“God.”

“Now I need yours.”

I slap a hand on my mouth to hold back a sob.

“Make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.”

And I think about a woman in New Orleans who believed six different men when they told her they’d stay, who raised me alone and did it beautifully, and who never once got a night like this one.

I think about how certain I was, at nineteen, that wanting this made me a fool.

“Yes.” I crouch down to his level and brush my lips over his. “Yes. Always.”

He slides the ring onto my finger, and we kiss, holding on a moment longer than we need to.

“We should eat. I slaved over a stove for hours,” he teases, getting a laugh out of me.

We sit by the window with the city glittering around us and eat my favorite childhood meal. The conversation is light and easy and full of laughter. When we finish, I offer to clear the plates, but he refuses, saying he’s bringing out dessert.

“You really must love me,” I say when I spot the tiramisu slices. “How did you manage to make that.”

“Through wit and strength. And a sidekick.”

“Jasper.” I laugh, and now, it all makes sense. I walk around to his side and press a kiss to his jaw. “You really did a good job of hiding this from me. I’m impressed.”