Chapter 8 - THE ENGAGEMENT HE ASKED FORDeclan proposed to me on a Tuesday morning while I was cleaning oatmeal off Gabriel’s hair.
I stared at him.
“No.”
His face fell.
“I'm holding oatmeal.”
“Oh.”
“Try again.”
He disappeared.
Five minutes later, he returned wearing a jacket.
I laughed.
“What are you doing?”
“Resetting.”
“You're ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
He knelt.
Rose screamed.
“DADDY FELL!”
“He's okay.”
Declan looked at me.
“Amelia Hart, several years ago I made the worst mistake of my life.”
“Strong opening.”
“I’m nervous.”
“Continue.”
“I thought loving you meant removing danger before you knew it existed.”
His eyes held mine.
“I was wrong.”
Rose climbed onto his back.
He continued anyway.
“I cannot promise nothing bad will ever happen.”
Good.
“I cannot promise I will always make the right decision.”
Better.
“But I can promise I will never again confuse protecting you with owning your choices.”
My eyes filled.
“I will ask.”
Rose pulled his ear.
“I will listen.”
Gabriel started crying.
“I will probably panic excessively about both children.”
Accurate.
“And if you want to spend the rest of your life with me…”
He opened a small box.
My grandmother’s ring was inside.
Restored.
Beside it sat a simple new band.
“You choose.”
That broke me.
Not the diamond.
Choice.
Always choice.
“Yes.”
Declan closed his eyes.
Rose shouted:
“CAKE!”
Apparently engagement meant cake.
We agreed.
Our wedding was scheduled for spring.
Savannah became my maid of honor.
Life had a sense of humor.
“You realize,” I told her, “you were his first fiancée.”
“Fake fiancée.”
“Still.”
“I have excellent experience.”
Declan refused to participate in this conversation.
June planned flowers.
No lilies.
She remembered.
The press learned about the engagement.
Headlines appeared.
FORMER CHICAGO UNDERWORLD FIGURE TO MARRY ART RESTORER.
I hated every version.
Then one article referred to me as:
THE WOMAN WHO TAMED DECLAN VOSS.
I wrote a public response.
Men are not wild animals women are responsible for domesticating. Declan changed because Declan chose to change. I stayed because I chose to stay.
It went viral.
Declan printed it.
I threatened him.
He framed it.
Wedding preparations continued.
Then Savannah received a threat.
Anonymous.
TRAITORS DON'T GET HAPPY ENDINGS.
Old fear returned instantly.
Police investigated.
Federal authorities too.
We wondered whether remnants of Victor’s network were reorganizing.
Declan's old instincts surfaced.
Security doubled.
He wanted the children removed from school.
I said:
“Declan.”
He stopped.
Breathed.
“What do you think?”
Better.
We adjusted security without destroying normal life.
The threat came from someone unexpected.
Connor Roarke.
Gavin’s son.
Not intentionally.
His online account had been compromised by an old Voss associate named Michael Trent.
Trent blamed Declan for dismantling the organization.
He had lost money.
Status.
Power.
He wanted revenge.
Police arrested him before he acted.
No dramatic confrontation.
Again, I preferred that.
Afterward, Declan admitted:
“For ten minutes I wanted to find him myself.”
“But?”
“I called the police.”
I kissed him.
“Very sexy.”
He laughed.
The wedding arrived.
Small church.
Family.
Friends.
No crime families.
No political alliances.
No photographers inside.
Savannah wore blue.
June cried before I entered.
Gavin stood beside Declan.
Rose carried flowers and abandoned half of them.
Gabriel tried eating one.
Then I saw Declan.
Years earlier, I watched him stand beside another woman announcing an engagement designed to deceive an enemy.
That image once destroyed me.
Now he stood alone at the altar.
Waiting.
Not commanding.
Waiting.
I walked toward him.
When I reached him, he whispered:
“You came.”
“Generally expected at weddings.”
“I know.”
But I understood.
I had left once.
Part of him would always remember.
“I came because I wanted to.”
His eyes filled.
Our vows contained no obedience.
No ownership.
No forever-at-any-cost.
We promised truth.
Choice.
Accountability.
Partnership.
Then the officiant said:
“You may kiss.”
Rose shouted:
“DO IT!”
Everyone laughed.
We did.
At the reception, Savannah approached.
“Do you ever think about that first engagement?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“I know.”
She looked toward Declan holding Gabriel.
“My father believed marriages were business contracts.”
“And you?”
She smiled.
“I think they're terrifying.”
“Correct.”
We laughed.
Later, Declan and I danced.
“You know something?” he whispered.
“What?”
“This is technically my first real engagement.”
“Marriage.”
“That too.”
I looked at him.
“Was Savannah really never romantic?”
“Never.”
“Not even once?”
“No.”
“Did she want to be?”
“Absolutely not.”
Savannah shouted from across the room:
“I CAN HEAR YOU.”
We laughed.
Then Declan became serious.
“I wish I had told you.”
“So do I.”
“I wish you hadn't spent months alone.”
“So do I.”
“I wish I had seen Rose’s first ultrasound.”
I touched his face.
“We can't rewrite it.”
“No.”
“But we can remember it accurately.”
He nodded.
We had hurt each other.
Mostly through fear.
We learned.
That was more meaningful than pretending the pain never happened.
The music slowed.
May you like
Declan kissed my forehead.
And the engagement that once made me disappear was finally replaced by a marriage that allowed me to remain entirely myself.
