Chapter 79

Cecilia

The door opened, and Arthur walked in carrying several containers. "I got you that special nutrition shake the doctor recommended," he said, setting them down on the table.

"And some protein bars for tomorrow's trip back. They're supposed to help with—"

He stopped, his eyes landing on the phone in my hand. Then on my face.

"Cecilia?"

"Ethan called," I said quietly.

All the color drained from his face. "What did he say?"

"That the proposal site has been cleared. That everything's been cancelled." I watched him carefully, saw the way his hands clenched at his sides. "Arthur, were you planning to propose to me?"

He closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. When he opened them again, he looked almost defeated. "Yes."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night. The last night of our trip." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, not quite looking at me. "I had this whole thing planned. The desert at night, the stars, a drone show. I wanted it to be perfect."

My chest ached. "And you cancelled it because I got hurt."

"Of course I did." He finally looked at me, and the raw emotion in his eyes made my breath catch. "You're lying in a hospital bed with a broken wrist and a sprained leg. How could I—"

He broke off, running a hand through his hair. "It didn't feel right. None of it felt right when you were hurt."

"Arthur—"

"I wanted you to be standing under the stars with me, not stuck in bed. I wanted—" His voice cracked. "I wanted it to be perfect for you. And I fucked it up."

"You didn't fuck anything up," I said softly. "I'm the one who fell off a cliff."

"Don't." His voice was sharp. "Don't joke about that. I almost lost you, Cecilia. Do you understand that? When I saw you get hurt—" He had to stop, his breathing uneven.

I reached for him with my good hand. "But you didn't lose me. I'm right here."

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

"I've been carrying this around for three days," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I kept thinking maybe I'd find the right moment. But there is no right moment now. The drones are gone, the setup is cancelled, and you're—" He gestured helplessly at my cast, my bandaged leg.

"I'm here," I said firmly. "I'm here with you. That's all that matters."

He opened the box, revealing a ring that caught the light and made my heart skip a beat. "This isn't how I planned it," he said, almost apologetically. "This isn't—"

"Arthur Winston," I interrupted. "Are you seriously going to let a cancelled drone show stop you from proposing to me?"

He blinked. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at his lips. "When you put it that way—"

"Get down on one knee."

"You're in a hospital bed."

"I don't care. Get down on one knee."

He slid off the bed and onto one knee beside it, still holding the box. His eyes met mine, and suddenly the exhaustion and worry in his face gave way to something else—something fierce and tender and absolutely certain.

"Cecilia Locke," he said, his voice steady now. "I love you. I have loved you since you were 18 years old and decided I was yours. I will love you until the day I die, and probably long after that."

He paused. "This isn't the proposal I planned. There are no drones, no stars, no perfect setup. But I don't need any of that. I just need you. Will you marry me?"

I was crying before I even realized it, tears streaming down my face as I nodded. "Yes," I managed to get out. "Yes, Arthur. Yes."

He stood up carefully, mindful of my injuries, and slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, like it had been made just for me. Then he leaned down and kissed me, soft and sweet and full of promise, and I wrapped my good arm around his neck and held on tight.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my palm.

"This is perfect," I whispered.

He smiled, that real smile that transformed his whole face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Way better than drones."

He laughed, the sound surprised and genuine, and kissed me again. And lying there in that narrow hospital bed, his arms around me and my ring catching the light, I couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

The next morning, I woke to a commotion outside our room.

Arthur was already up, standing by the window with a slight frown. "We have a visitor," he said.

"Who?"

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door, and Jack—the boy who'd helped find me—burst in, his arms full of wildflowers.

"Miss Cecilia!" he said, his face bright with excitement. "I brought you flowers! They're desert marigolds—they only bloom this time of year."

"Jack." I couldn't help but smile as he thrust the bouquet at me. "These are beautiful. Thank you."

"I've been bringing you flowers every day," he said proudly. "While you were resting. Mr. Arthur said it was okay."

I looked at Arthur, who shrugged with a small smile. "He was very insistent."

Jack shuffled his feet, suddenly shy. "Miss Cecilia, I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I love you," he said in a rush. "And when I grow up, I'm gonna marry you."

Arthur made a strangled sound, and I had to bite back a laugh at his expression—somewhere between amused and genuinely jealous of a ten-year-old.

"Jack," I said gently, trying to keep my voice steady. "That's very sweet. And very brave of you to say. But I have to tell you something—I'm already engaged. To Arthur."

Jack's face fell. "Oh."

"But," I continued, "I think you're gonna grow up to be an amazing man. And someday, you're gonna find someone who loves you just as much as I love Arthur. Someone who will be perfect for you."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

Jack looked at me for a long moment, then nodded seriously. "Okay. I'll wait for her." He brightened. "But can I still bring you flowers?"

"I'd love that."

After Jack left, promising to visit again before we left the desert, Arthur pulled me into his arms, careful of my injuries.

"I can't believe I was jealous of a child," he muttered into my hair.

"You were not."

"I was absolutely jealous. He's been bringing you flowers for days, and I—" He pulled back to look at me, his expression rueful. "I'm pathetic."

I laughed, unable to help myself, and he kissed me to shut me up.