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“You mean…?”
“Had it in my pocket last year. Have it in my pocket now. I can’t afford a diamond just yet, so it has a…” “Orange sea glass instead,” I finish for him, my heart rioting in my chest. He grins.
“Please, for the love of G…Marx, put me out of my fucking misery and tell me you’ll be my wife. I’m not asking you to make the commitment this year. Or next year. Or maybe not even the next one. I’m asking you to make the commitment to make the commitment, and yes, I know how Dr. Phil that sounds.”
kissing my cheeks, my nose, my forehead, then finally, my chin.
“Shiiiiit,” he hisses. “You’re still not giving me words, Skull Eyes.” His shirts are so perfectly whole these days. Mine, too.
“Yes, Penn Scully. It would be an honor to be your wife.” “Thank fuck, I thought I was going to grow o...
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And that’s what good friends and families do. They pick you up and pull you out of the mud of your own mistakes. And when you’re not the best version of yourself? Well, they’re still there, waiting, because we’re all fucking human.