I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head against his chest. His solid body felt good against mine. He smelled like musk and man.
My man, I realized, and I wasn’t letting go. “Better?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
So I tipped my head back. “Gabe?”
“What did he say that made me almost lose you?” he asked, his voice a tender mix of caring and frustration.
This was hard, mostly because it was an embarrassing statement of who I’d been. Or who Lance thought I’d been, which still held some amount of painful truth.
I inhaled a deep breath. “Basically, he called me a pathetic gold digger and said he’d had to turn to other women because I’m frigid in bed. Then he asked how long I thought it would be until you saw the real me and did the same thing.” I looked away, rushing out the words, hoping that, once behind me, they’d lose impact.
They didn’t. They still hurt, whether I believed them in my heart or not. “I should have left him much sooner. There wouldn’t be any truth to his words if I had. Instead, I lived off of him even after I sensed things were over. And they should have been over.”
“You trusted him.”
I nodded. “He said he wanted me taking care of his home, that we’d have a family one day. I believed him. I honestly didn’t realize how he’d isolated me from everyone or the lengths he’d gone to in order to ensure I had no one. I was a showpiece when he needed one, a glorified maid and all-around useless female when he didn’t.”
It hurt to admit those truths, but it was freeing in a way too. I glanced at Gabe. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For letting me go when I needed to. So I could come back when I wanted to. Even if you did set me up to get me here.” I couldn’t contain a smile.
“You were never really gone. Not from here.” He touched his chest, above his heart. “I didn’t expect to do this now,” he said, more to himself than to me.
“I don’t understand.”
He cupped his hand around the back of my neck, and I sighed into him. I always felt so good when he took hold of me this way. “I love you, Iz.”
I blinked, truly stunned. I’d hoped he did. It was everything I’d wanted him to say. Those three little words that set my heart soaring. “I love you too,” I whispered.
The harsh lines of his face softened at my words. Those intense blue eyes warmed as he slid his hands from my neck. He now framed my face as he lowered his head and kissed me. Slowly, intently, and lovingly, this kiss wasn’t all-consuming and hot, it wasn’t about need or want. The sweet slide of his lips over mine said more than words. He told me I was special, the center of his world.
And he was mine.
He broke the kiss, and I watched, speechless, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box. A small, ring-sized jewelry box.
He popped the top open. “Marry me,” he said. He didn’t ask.
I trembled all over. And here I’d thought I love you was the greatest phrase I’d ever heard. Marry me? Cherry on top of an awesomely layered cake.
“Yes.” I held out my shaking hand. I’d barely noticed the actual ring before he placed it on my finger. Nothing mattered but the meaning behind it.
Of course, when I really looked at the stone, the emerald shape covered my entire finger and then some. I couldn’t begin to guess at the carat size, nor did I want to. “It’s gorgeous,” I managed to breathe out.
He shook his head. “You’re gorgeous. It’s just a diamond.”
The tears that fell now were the good kind. The kind that indicated happiness and trust, that held the promise of the future I’d always dreamed of.
“I love you,” I said, feeling the emotion with everything inside me.
“You do, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Then f**k the party,” he muttered and lifted me into his arms, starting for the bedroom with a determined stride.