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“I still have the bus.” The bus. Our bus? I paused, looking down into his glistening, sea green eyes as he blinked up at me. “I don’t need the Cove,” he said over the rain. “I need more memories with you.” I breathed hard, but I couldn’t move as tears filled my eyes. “Memories that aren’t tainted with all the years apart right afterward,” he explained.
“I build with you now,” he whispered to me, the heat of his mouth on my lips. “We make Thunder Bay together, Em. I love you.” I love you.
“You came for me,” he said. Yes. Yes, I did. I didn’t need to search for an excuse. I knew why. “I couldn’t lose you anymore,” I told him, staring at the street ahead.
I fucking loved Will Grayson. I wanted to eat every meal with him, have that damn Mission: Impossible marathon with him, and let him knock me up as soon and as much as he wanted.
“Will you marry me?” I asked, breathing hard and my heart hammering.
“I love you,” I said, and I could see people filming us with their phones out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t care. “I’m wild crazy for you, and I’m sure I’ll kill you at some point, but . . . God, I love you so much, and I want you to marry me.” More tears streamed down my face as I choked out the words. “Marry me, Will Grayson.” I rushed up and hugged his back, wrapping my arms around him. “Can you marry me? Can I marry you?”
“I loved you last night,” I told him. “And I loved you this morning. I’ll still be here. I’ll still be me tomorrow and every day after.”
“He’s my life,” she said, “and I couldn’t be happier about that. Nothing is worth anything without him.”
“Michael and Erika . . . I now pronounce you husband and wife,” she told them. They kissed, and the judge proceeded around the group. “Damon and Winter? I pronounce you husband and wife.” I bit my lip, inching into Will and ready. “Kai and Nikova?” she continued. “I pronounce you husband and wife.” Kai growled before kissing Banks hard. “And William and Emory, I now pronounce you . . . husband and wife.”
“Or eight months,” I offered, a tingle fluttering under my skin. “Eight-ish. Give or take.” He stood there silently for a moment, and when I finally looked up, he was staring at me and not breathing. “Are you serious?” he murmured. I couldn’t contain the excitement. “Are you ready?” He grabbed me and kissed me, laughing against my lips. “I am never not ready for anything with you.”
This was always our story. We want what we want.
