“We’re getting married.” My hands go to my face. “I want you to move in with me, and I want to marry you. I’m not waiting forever either. Meaning, if I could convince you, I would do it tomorrow.” He holds out the ring. “I’m not wasting more time with you not being my wife,” he says softly. “I want to have my ring on your finger. I want your ring on my finger. I want to have babies with you. I want to fight with you for fun.” I laugh since we never, ever fight. It’s a strange thing; maybe it’s because we’ve been friends for so long, but there are no fights. “I want it all, and I want it with
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