The Plight Before Christmas(112)

Tears fill her eyes.

“Even when we were apart, I kept you with me. The day I got this tattoo, I was at my lowest point. We’d been broken up for a while, but I knew after your exit that I had to make some changes. I had to finally deal with my anxiety and grief.” I trace her finger over the first pulse point. “I knew the only way to truly deal with it would mean getting through it.”

Pressing the pad of her finger to the first dotted line, I lean in. “At the darkest time of my life, you were the one thing that reminded me that it was still worth living, and it was the memory of you that kept me going. It was you who was with me every step of the way. If I’ve done anything in my life worth something since we met, it was because of what you saw and what you see.” I swallow as I try not to let my emotions choke me up. “You told me last year when you pulled up to this house—”

“I was at my lowest,” she says, “and in a way, you brought me back to life.”

“I love that about us, Whitney. Sure, we can do fine on our own, but we’re better together. That’s who we are to each other, baby. Whatever you want to call it, fate, kismet, divine intervention, whatever it is that brought us together, that’s what makes us special. We were miles and years apart, but it never left us—and for me, that makes us the definition of—”

“Soul mates,” she says softly, “we’re soul mates, Eli,” she repeats the word as my eyes sting with emotion. I nod and pull out the box.

“You’ve been my source of gravity since the second I laid eyes on you, and I want to be yours for the rest of our lives. You have me, heart and soul. Whitney, will you marry me?”

Tears stream down her cheeks as she flies across the console and into my arms with a “Yes, yes, yes!”

Hugging her to me, I lift my thumb at her back. A second later, reflective light beams into the SUV, lighting up the cabin of the car. Whitney tenses in my arms.

“Oh my God!” Happy tears trailing down her cheeks, she pulls away, looking out of the windows of the car. Every single tree surrounding the cabin drips with solid white light. The cabin itself is lit from the foundation to the roof.

“Oh my, God. It’s so beautiful.” She turns to me, beaming. “You lit up the whole damn mountain for me!”

I can’t help my smile. “I would take a bullet in the ass for you.”

“Huh?” She laughs at my word choice.

“Let’s just say I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.”

“I can’t wait to marry you,” she murmurs.

“Do you think you might want the ring?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, holding her hand up between us. I pull the diamond out of the box and push the ring on her finger.

“It’s beautiful.” She says without seeing it, and fuck if I don’t love her more for it. It wouldn’t matter if it were plastic. But it’s far from it. I see the second she truly gauges it. “Jesus. Eli, it’s…wow.”

“Like it?”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I love you.” Gripping my face, my diamond on her finger, she leans in, and I meet her halfway, capturing her lips. Tongues tangling, I fill her mouth with as much affection as my kiss will allow. Her answering moan vibrates on my tongue just as a knock sounds on her passenger window. We ignore it until Brenden’s shitty British accent breaks through our kiss.

“Pardon me, but would you have any Grey Poupon?”

“Brenden,” Erin scolds from next to him, her belly swollen with our incoming nephew.

“What? She’s in advertising. I thought she’d appreciate it.”

“This is a serious moment. Don’t ruin it for them.”

Giggling, Whitney looks over to see the entirety of her family crowding my SUV.

“You better have said yes, sis,” Brenden snarks, “you’re close to old maid status.”

“That there is why I’m going to be best man,” Thatch speaks up from next to him.

“You so are not, dick. I’ll be the best man.”

“No dick, Uncie Brenden,” Peyton scolds before sounding out. “Pee-nis.”

“Peyton!” Gracie admonishes. “That’s a bad word too.”

“Only for you,” Thatch chimes in with a father’s warning.

“We are so going to Vegas for the bachelor party,” Brenden announces.

“Over my dead body,” Serena chimes in while smacking the window lightly. “Open up, Whit. I’m dying!”

“Your dead body can be arranged,” Brenden assures dryly.

“Brenden, I think it’s time you know that you are the worst brother in the history of ever.”

“Oh my God, it’s finally happened.” Brenden fakes a sniff. “I’ve been working toward that title my whole life. First, I would like to thank the academy—oww! Shit, Serena!”

“Uncie Eli,” Peyton barks from somewhere between them. “Come out!”

Wyatt wiggles in Conner’s arms as she stands back from the rest of the group, shaking her head. Such a smart girl.

“Auntie Whit,” Gracie says through a mouthful of braces, shielding her eyes and peering into the window. “Hurry up so I can see the ring!”