Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Your family is incredible,” she says, leaning against the railing. The city lights reflect in her eyes, making them sparkle. “I can see where you get your warmth from, your loyalty.”
“They love you,” I tell her, moving to stand behind her, my arms wrapping around her waist. She leans back against my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat against my arms.
“I love them too,” she says softly. “I’ve never . . . I’ve never had anything like this. A big family, everyone talking over each other, babies crying, your mom making sure everyone is taken care of. It’s so nice to see how your family and Noah’s mesh so well.”
“Josie and my mom are best friends and have been since they were little. There’s a lot of history there. I’ve known Liam my entire life but met Noah when I was eight. At first, we didn’t get along. He was jealous of me because I was close to his dad, and I was jealous of him because he had this amazing family. You haven’t even met Nick—that’s Noah’s stepdad—and his two kids. We were all together at Christmas. We’re this one big family and it’s so odd to think that if Peyton and Elle’s father hadn’t died, I probably wouldn’t be standing here, with you.”
“We would’ve found each other eventually. I believe this wholeheartedly. Your family is beautiful, Quinn.”
“You’re part of it now,” I tell her, and I mean it completely.
She turns in my arms to face me, and in the neon glow of the city, I can see vulnerability written across her features. “Am I? I mean, we just started dating, Quinn. Everything’s been so intense, so fast.”
“Does that scare you?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Sometimes. Not the feelings. I know how I feel about you. But the speed of everything . . .”
“What if I told you I don’t want to slow down?” I ask, my heart starting to pound as I prepare to put everything on the line.
“What do you mean?”
I cup her face in my hands, studying her features in the colored lights of Vegas. “I mean, what if I told you watching you with my family, with the babies, with Ajay’s kids at the pool, seeing you laugh with my sisters, what if I told you that’s what I want for the rest of my life?”
Her breath catches, and I can see her processing what I’m saying.
“Justine,” I continue, the words spilling out of me, “I love you. I love how you fit into my world, how you make everything better. I love your strength and your talent and the way you see the best in people. I love watching you hold my niece and nephews like you’ve been doing it forever.”
Tears start to form in her eyes, and she looks at me like she knows what’s coming but can’t quite believe it.
“I don’t want to wait,” I say, meaning every word. “I want to marry you, Justine. I want you to be my wife, my partner, my family.”
The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, she just stares at me. Then she steps back slightly, her hands coming up to cover her mouth.
“Quinn,” she says, and her voice shakes. “We . . . we just started dating. Like, really dating. A couple of months ago, you were engaged to someone else, we haven’t even lived together, and I . . .”
“I know—”
“Marriage?” she continues, and I can see her mind racing. “That’s . . . that’s huge. That’s forever. Are you sure you’re not just caught up in the moment? Your family being here, the tour ending, everything that’s happened?”
The doubt in her voice makes my chest tight, but I understand it. She’s being rational, cautious, everything I probably should be but can’t bring myself to be.
“Justine,” I say, taking her hands in mine, “look at me.”
She does, and I can see the war between her heart and her head playing out in her expression.
“I know it sounds crazy,” I tell her. “I know people will say it’s too soon, too fast, too everything. But when you know something’s right, you don’t wait. When you know someone is your person, you don’t waste time wondering if you should feel differently.”
“But what if—”
“What if what?” I ask gently. “What if we’re making a mistake? What if we should wait a year, two years, five years? What would change? I’m not going to love you less in five years. I’m not going to want to build a life with you any less.”
She cries now, but she also listens, really listens.
“I’ve been in a relationship where I waited,” I continue. “Where I followed timelines and did what other people thought was appropriate. And you know what happened? I wasted years trying to make something work that was never right. This, us, this is right. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”