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I tug her to me and playfully clasp her hands behind her back. “Not Marckies.”

“Okay, miniature Delaneys,” she concedes.

“Yes. Those … one day … when you’re ready.”

I lead her to the book nook. It’s her favorite spot in the house. I had two overstuffed chairs with ottomans delivered here a while back as a housewarming.

“This is what I want to show you,” I tell her.

She turns and surveys the nook, noticing the new books on the shelves from her online wishlist.

“You got me books!” She squeals, flying into my arms with a hug.

“I did. I want you to spend hours up here, reading to your heart’s content.”

“I do still have a nine-to-five,” she says.

“And I’m not asking you to give that up,” I say. “I’m just remembering when we first toured this house.”

She leans into me. I hold her, kissing the top of her head.

“I watched you as we entered each room—the way you paid attention to the details. I should have known then what this house meant to you. I just thought you merely appreciated an old home.”

“I do, but especially this one.”

“And then we came up here, and your eyes lit up, and then your face got this forlorn expression. Now, I know. You were grieving. You thought that was the only time you would ever see this space.”

“I thought you would have all this. And, at the time, I considered you practically the last person on earth who deserved this house.”

“That’s not the only thing I don’t deserve,” I say.

“What are you talking about?” she tips her head back so she can look up at me.

I step back, digging in my pocket and dropping to my knee.

“Cass, I don’t deserve you. I know I’m awesome …”

She laughs and tears form in her eyes, despite her smile.

“You are,” she says with a catch in her throat. “So awesome.”

I crack open the box and her hand flies up to her mouth.

“The thing is,” I tell her. “I don’t deserve you. You’re a powerhouse, but also gentle. Bossy …”

She shoves my shoulder with her free hand. “Who’s talking?”

I continue, unable to suppress my smile. “But also an incredibly good listener. The only person on earth who can get me to stop spiraling when I’m replaying a loss on an infinite loop in my brain.

“You are beautiful. But your heart? That’s the most beautiful part of you. And I’m so madly in love with you. I can’t imagine life without you in it. And … well … would you be my wife?”

I had so much more planned, but I can’t say it all. I have to know—have to hear her answer after all the planning and waiting for this moment.

Tears are running down her cheeks, and she chokes on a cry before she says, “Yes! Of course! Oh my gosh! Marcus, I love you!”

She’s crying and I realize my own tears have started to fall as I stand.

“I never thought it could be like this,” I say, slipping the ring onto her finger. “I love you, Cass. You are the great love of my life.”