Page 148

“What?” I ask, and it comes out smaller than I intend.

“Nothing.” He gestures at my knee. “Eat.”

“Bossy.”

“Jubilee.”

Fine. I peel back part of the wrapper, mostly so my hands keep busy, and that’s when I notice the sugar bow isn’t set into the frosting. A narrow ribbon runs beneath it, disappearing down into the cake.

I scan the cupcake, then study him. “Gage.”

“Pull it.”

Every drop of blood in my body leaves my face and comes roaring back. “No fucking way.”

“Pull the ribbon, Princess.”

My fingers shake so badly, I nearly tear the ribbon. The sugar bow lifts, pulling a tiny holder from the buttercream.

A ring glints inside.

For possibly the first time since the night I met this man, I have absolutely nothing to say.

He takes the ring and then the plate, before I can drop either. My eyes have already gone hot and useless. “Holy shit,” I whisper.

“Very romantic.”

A strangled sob seeps out of me. Gage sets the cupcake on the nightstand and lowers onto one knee beside the bed. Both my hands fly up to my mouth. Somewhere behind me, Cannoli meows.

“Thank you,” Gage tells the cat. “Someone appreciates timing.”

My laugh is more of a hiccup. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, so my knees frame his, and he takes my left hand in both of his.

He’s shaking. This enormous, infuriating, unflappable man, who has handled blood, bodies, and baking chaos like a vigilante pastry god, is shaking.

“Gage—”

“Don’t.”

A smile breaks through my tears. “Are you nervous?”

“Jubilee.”

“Oh my God, you are.”

“This proposal can still be revoked,” he warns me, but I register the teasing glint in his eye.

I grab his wrist with both hands. “No, it fucking can’t.”

His shoulders ease. He pulls in a breath. “Jubilee York, will you be my domestically feral, coaster-challenged chaos queen forever?”

My laugh cracks straight through the crying. I take his face between my hands, thumbs sweeping along his cheekbones, and discover the wet there isn’t all mine.

“Only if you’ll be my control-freak, coaster-fascist loose Cannon forever.”

“Deal.”

The ring slides onto my finger like it was measured there, which, knowing him, it was. He probably measured my size while I was passed out after a long night of boss-hackery.