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“Beige is, without a doubt, the worst colour in the whole spectrum of colours, seen and unseen, discovered and undiscovered, dreamed and to be dreamed. There will never in the history of colour be a worse colour than beige.”
“Can I be in the cage with you?” Declan stopped. “Just you and me?” I nodded. A small smile tugged up the corners of his lips. “You and me,” he said. “We’ll pretend it’s just you and me.” I grinned. “You and me.” Declan smiled down at me. My eyes suddenly widened and I pointed up at him. “You’re smiling!” Declan’s smile immediately disappeared. “No.”
“But what I hate most of all about you is…” His mouth wavered, whatever words yet unspoken clinging to his lips. My breath fluttered nervously as I waited, each second of silence was pure agony. He yanked me closer to him. I stumbled, falling against his solid chest. “…I don’t hate you at all.”
“I’m not with you because you’re from the world of diamonds,” he said. “I’m with you because you’re from the world of mud and darkness, deep, deep darkness, and yet you’re strong enough to shine brighter than any of their silly stones.”
“I can’t stop,” I sobbed. “Declan, I can’t stop running to you. So please…” I gasped and clenched my eyes shut. “Baby, please don’t go where I can’t follow.”
“Run to me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and rough. “River, run to me.”
“The only I title I care about now is the title of having the gentlest touch on a Sunday morning, the title of bringing you the best pancakes in bed. Of making you the richest chicken soup when you’re sick and cracking the lamest jokes when you’re sad. I want the title of best shoulder to cry on, best lover, best dance partner in the rain.”
“The only title I want now…” I paused as I held out the vintage ring I’d bought for River in Dublin, “…is the title of husband.” I breathed in deeply for the first time in a long time, because I was finally free. “Marry me?”
