Logan squeezes my shoulder and steps toward the clothes, picking up a little boy’s outfit for “I used the potty!”.
He turns toward me and makes a confused face. “I didn’t realize you included gifts inside the clothes.”
I scrunch my forehead. “What?”
He motions to the pocket on the front of the onesie. My heart stops when I see the circular outline. The small, circular outline.
“Yeah,” he says, smirking and falling to one knee. He reaches in the pocket and pulls it out. “Look at this thing. You’d have to really be head over heels in fucking love with someone to give this to them. You’d have to want to marry them.”
“You would…” I say, voice barely a whisper. The tears that threatened to fall when I saw the display are falling now for a completely different reason.
“Will you marry me, Emmaline?” asks Logan.
I don’t notice the small crowd forming around us. I don’t notice the way my heart is about to explode from overwork. I only see him. I see not just the drop-dead gorgeous man staring up at me, but the patient, thoughtful man who has been willing to work through my problems with me. I see the man who realized I didn’t need his money, who understood me so completely that he never needed to even ask. I see my soulmate. The only man I ever want to be with. Now and forever.
“I do. God. I do,” I say.
He slides the ring over my finger and I notice it for the first time. If I had any breath in my lungs, the sight of the ring would take it away. It’s not so big it’s gaudy, even though Logan could afford a ring like that. It’s elegant and in exactly the style I would have chosen with an almost antique flair to it. He stands, pulling me in for a kiss and then embracing me, just as blind as I am to the applauding crowd around us.
I couldn’t hope for anything more, except maybe a baby of my own to wear the onesies his mommy designed. I smirk into Logan’s shoulder. He may think he has complete control, but I have a feeling I’ll be able to convince him to try for a baby.
66
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