“You want to marry me?” “More than anything.” “Tell me. Tell me all the things you want,” I order. He hesitates, glancing out the windows to the stormy night beyond. “It won’t influence my answer. Trust me to be honest.” He looks back at me. “What I want, Nora,” he says, his voice raw, “is for you to stay here forever. For you to be mine. For there to be no more faking between us—not ever. I want you on my arm. I want you wearing my ring. More than anything, I want you happy. I want to see you designing. I want to hear you say no a thousand more times. I want to make you come, and I want to
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