The Trouble With Love(76)

She still stared at the paper, not quite following.

“It’s the receipt for your engagement ring,” he said quietly. “I kept it, in case we needed to have the ring sized. It’s dated weeks before I asked you to marry me. That proposal was no scheming power play for your dad’s company, Emma. That was the real deal. I was simply a boy who asked the girl he loved to spend the rest of her life with him.”

Her eyes watered. “I didn’t believe you. I belittled it. I belittled us.”

His fingers closed around hers. “Read the paper, Emma. Believe it. Please.”

She looked up at him, even though he was a little blurry through her tears. “Where are the matches?”

“What?”

She spotted the discarded matchbox on the counter and wiggled free of him, reaching for it as she pulled out a match and lit the receipt on fire. She dropped it into the garbage can when the fire got too near her fingers, and they both watched as the flame sputtered out in the cold metal can. “I trust you.”

“Well,” he said quietly, staring at the ashes. “I guess it’s not the end of the world. Unless your fingers have gotten fatter, we shouldn’t need to resize it.”

“Resize what?” she asked, still staring at the smoking embers.

She glanced at him just in time to see him lower to one knee.

“Cassidy—Alex.”

Between his thumb and forefinger he held a ring.

The very ring he’d slipped onto her finger all those years ago.

The same one she’d thrown at his head in the fit of a righteous bridal tantrum.

“You kept it,” she whispered, staring down at it. It was a simple emerald-cut diamond, but she’d know that ring anywhere. She’d spent hours staring at it.

“I kept it,” he said, his voice husky. “I tried to get rid of it at least a dozen times, but…”

He shrugged.

Emma reached for it, and he pulled it back with a quick smile. “Nope. You don’t get something for nothing.”

His expression turned serious as he dropped his arm, the ring disappearing into his palm before she could reach for it.

She felt a surge of panic.

“What do you mean? What do you want?”

His eyes were earnest as he looked up her. “Love me?”

Emma’s heart melted and flew at the same time. And then slowly, deliberately, she lowered to her knees so they were at eye level.

Her hands reached out tentatively, her fingertips touching his cheeks before she cupped his face. Cassidy’s eyes closed.

Emma leaned forward and brushed her mouth against his. “I love you. I’ve probably never stopped loving you, which is so annoying.”

She felt his smile as he coaxed her mouth into a deeper kiss, one of his hands moving around to the small of her back as the other found the fourth finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly. Just like it had back then.

“You know,” he said, between kisses, “maybe we should resize it after all. I’m thinking if it’s too small to get off, you can’t throw it at me every time you get mad.”

She pulled back and gave him a look. “I’ll tell you what. You promise not to try and date my sister and use me to further your career, and I won’t throw the ring at your face. Oh, and—”

Cassidy hooked a hand around the back of her head, jerking her forward and cutting her off with another kiss.

He pulled back again to press his lips against her ears. “I love you. I love you so much.”

She nuzzled his neck. “I love you, too.”

He was silent for a few moments. “Also, my knees—”

“Are killing me,” she finished for him.

They helped each other up, laughing when Emma’s heel knocked over the garbage can, scattering black ash on her floor.

“Okay, I have to ask. Whose idea was the trash can?” she asked.

“Was it really bad?”

“So bad.”

He grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that. That, my love, was your boy-crush Lincoln Mathis. Jake thought we should bring his legendary ways with women in on the discussion, and this is what he came up with.”

“Huh,” she said, righting the can. “Good thing he’s pretty.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll fire him.”

“Go ahead. Maybe my father will give him a job.”

Cassidy barked out a laugh, and she laughed back.

It felt good. Right. As though she could actually feel the old wounds healing the more they joked about it.

Then he backed her against the kitchen counter, and the joking was replaced by something much more interesting.

“What do you think, darling? Do we attempt a redo of the big church wedding? Or do we piss off parents and friends alike by eloping?”

Emma touched his lip with the tip of her finger. “I’m thinking small and local.”

He kissed her finger. “Whatever you want. My only request is soon.”

Emma gave him a mock frown. “You didn’t like our seven-year hiatus?”

“Are you kidding?” he said, reaching around her to grab the half-burned Stiletto magazine. “It gave you time to add twelve exes to your résumé.”

“Yeah, about that,” she said, reaching for the magazine and opening it to the page with her article. “The cover only has half of my headline.”