by Ivy Jordan
“I wanted to thank you for saving this young lady, you’re a true hero,” the man said gratefully, shaking Xander’s hand with a robust power.
“Sir, she is the one who saved me,” Xander responded with a smile, and then took my hand.
The night air was cool, but it wasn’t unbearable yet.
“You wanna walk for a bit?” he asked.
I bundled my arms into my coat and wrapped my scarf around my face as I nodded. We held hands, walking through town while Xander pointed out a few of the places he’d like to go. I was going to take him everywhere and let him experience everything.
Finally, he stopped beneath a row of tall trees, all filled with colorful leaves that warned of the change in seasons.
“Are you tired?” I questioned, knowing Xander never ran low on stamina.
He grinned wildly at me, and then reached in his pocket. I waited anxiously to see what it was, for him to explain what it was that he needed for tonight.
A small white box rested in his palm, and as he opened it, he dropped to one knee before me. A beautiful diamond ring glistened against the light from the street lamp, and my heart nearly exploded with happiness.
“Bailey, the day you literally fell into my life, I thought it was a nuisance, an interruption to my peaceful existence. But when you left, I found no peace without you by my side, and my existence was just that, an existence. You gave me life, you gave me love, and most of all, you gave me purpose. I can’t imagine going back to a simple existence ever again. I was life, love, purpose, I want you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
My mouth opened, but only a high-pitch shriek escaped. Xander chuckled, looking up at me nervously with his baby blues.
“Yes!” I finally exclaimed.
He stood, took my hand, and slid the ring onto my finger. I melted into his arms, right there on the street in front of anyone who cared to see. It didn’t matter where we were; it was just the two of us when we were together. The entire world just floated away.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan