Her eyes widen a little but she doesn’t seem that shocked that I would ask. We’ve been dating for a year. We love each other. It’s the next natural step.
But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t show excitement or say that she wants to marry me too.
“What do you think? Will you marry me? Or do you want to wait to answer until I do it right? Get a ring and find some romantic place?”
“Why do you want to marry me?” she asks.
I frown. “Because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
She nods. “I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you too but it doesn’t mean that we should get married.”
“Shouldn’t it?” I ask.
She smiles. “I don’t need to get married to know that you love me and will do anything for me for the rest of your life. One look today from you when my hand was cut was all it took to know that I’m yours forever.”
“And I’m yours forever.” I study her closely. “Will you marry me?” I ask again.
Her face lights up. “Yes. I’ll marry you, but only because I want an excuse to go on a long honeymoon where you can fuck me in a dozen countries.”
I grin. “God, I love you,” I say kissing her.
Olive is mine. I’m going to make it official by marrying her. And then take her on a year long honeymoon. I know she can find the right bakers to handle her bakeries while we are gone. After all, I was the one that taught her everything I know. She’s going to kill this running a business thing. She already is. She’s everything I never knew I wanted in a woman and more. And she’s all fucking mine. Forever.
THE END
Thank you so much for reading Not Sorry!
Continue on to read Finding Perfect…
Finding Perfect
1
Mila
Life sucks.
Like really, really sucks. Trust me, I know. I’ve dealt with my fair share of tragedies. I’ve had my heart broken, dragged through the mud, and then stomped on. I’ve woken up hungry and slept under a bridge on the streets. I know what abuse feels like. I’ve seen, firsthand, how bad addiction can be. Death is a cold friend, instead of a stranger. Loss is all I’ve ever known.
That’s why I have a plan for everything. I stick to a schedule for my day and my life. I know what I’m doing every minute of every day. I know what my next steps in life are. And that keeps me in control.
Chaos is when the worst happens. Tragedy lives in the craziness. I thrive in normal.
In ordinary.
In the expected.
I plan for every mistake, every tragedy, every misstep. That way I’m always prepared. I can handle anything because I’ve already thought of it first. I know how to bounce back and get my life on track in a second.
So why is today so hard?
Why am I not bouncing back?
Because five years ago today was the worst day of my life. I made the worst mistake, and I’ve been paying for it every day since.
I’m spiraling. I can feel the anxiety climbing into my chest and tightening until my lungs burn with each breath. My stomach is twisting in knots, and my head is pounding with an unshakable ache.
I need to plan. I need to find a solution and start implementing it.
But for once in my life, I don’t want to think about my responsibilities. I want to feel free, if only for a few moments.
I roll the window down of my Subaru, the classic car all Denverites drive. It’s cheap and gets the job done. I drive through the mountains, hoping the fresh air filled with aspen and pine trees will soothe my soul. The wind whips through the car too fast to have the window down, but I don’t care. I need to feel the wind. It’s the only thing keeping me from going into a full blown panic attack.
A man on a motorcycle rides my ass on the single lane road. I’m driving fast, but apparently not fast enough for the dipshit behind me.
The tiny smile I forced onto my lips earlier vanishes. I zoom around a curve faster than I should, and I feel out of control.
I hate it.
But Mr. Dangerous isn’t driving fast enough. Driving around curves without guardrails isn’t enough. He’s driving so fast; one mistake could cause his motorcycle and my car to tumble down the side