Victoria, eyes already bright with understanding, reached into her purse and pulled out the other half of the ribbon.
‘I made you
a promise when I was nine,’ he said.
‘Back then I thought being rich was the important part.
It wasn’t.
You fed me before I had anything to give back.
You taught me what kind of life is worth building.
I don’t want to marry you because I finally made money.
I want to marry you because every place I ever called success was still empty until you walked into it.’
His voice shook once.
He let it.
‘Victoria Hayes, will you marry me?’
She laughed and cried at the same time, which he would later learn was one of his favorite sounds in the world.
‘Only if you understand,’ she said, ‘that I still get veto power on bad kitchen layouts.’
‘I understand completely.’
Then she said yes.
