“Right. I get it. We will take it slow,” I agree, even though every fiber of my being wants to tell her to move in right now, tonight, forever.
Tiff steps deeper into the room, her fingers trailing over the soft canopy fabric, the curve of the ladder, the worn spines of the books. She sits down on the edge of the bed and laughs when Ella bounces beside her, already clutching Mr. Squishy to her chest.
“She loves it,” Tiff says softly. “You did good, Jamie.”
I lean against the doorframe, trying not to let my grin get too stupid. “That’s all I wanted.”
“Where’s your room?” Ella asks, bouncing off the bed and heading to where I’m standing.
“It’s just across the hall.” I scoop her up before she can leave and take the short couple of steps to my room.
When I open the door, I put Ella down and let her run to the queen bed with clean white sheets and a window overlooking the street.
“This room is smaller than mine,” she notes as Tiff picks up a framed photo on my nightstand. It’s the three of us from behind as we walk into the stadium.
“Where did you get this photo?” she asks, her thumb grazing the glass.
“Honey sent it to me,” I explain quietly. “After the game last week. She said I should celebrate how far I’ve come.”
“It’s beautiful.” A small smile graces her face as I pull her into a side hug.
“It’s also our first picture together as a family. Felt like it needed to be memorialized.”
Tiff sets the photo back on the nightstand and looks up at me with a soft smile. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just wanted it to feel like home.”
“It does.” Her voice is quiet and certain.
Tiff leans against me, her head resting beneath my chin as the credits forIced Outplay for the second time tonight. I kiss her forehead, breathing her in as I stroke Ella’s hair. Despite her enthusiasm to sleep in the tower bed, Ella ended up asleep on my chest half an hour ago, and I didn’t have the heart to move her.
This is it. This is what I want. Every night, every morning. Every damn minute of my day.
The TV plays the soundtrack in the background, but I barely hear it. All I can focus on is the steady rhythm of Tiff's breathing, the way her fingers trace idle circles over my arm.
“You know,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I mean it to be, “I used to think I’d ruined every good thing that had ever touched me.”
Her head shifts slightly, just enough for her to glance up at me, sleepy-eyed and questioning.
“But then you let me back in,” I say. “You and Ella. You made this—” I gesture around us, the blanket piled at our feet, the soft little snores coming from our kid—”feel like home.”
She smiles faintly, and before she can say anything, I tilt her chin up and kiss her. Slow. Careful. It's a kiss with a promise I've been holding since we reconnected.
When I pull back, my chest aches with how much I love her. How much I always have.
“Marry me,” I whisper. Maybe I shouldn't have said it, but I'm tired of holding it in any longer.
Her breath catches. “Jamie—”
“I know this is a lot,” I say quickly, the words tumbling out. “I know it's fast and probably crazy, but Tiff, I don't want to waste any more time. I've already missed four years with you. I never got to help you through pregnancy. I've missed three years of bedtimes and birthdays and every little moment in between with Ella. I can't get that back, but I can be here for everything that comes next.”
“Jamie—”
“Let me finish.” I cup her face, rubbing my thumb against her cheek. “You're the sweetest woman I've ever met. You're an incredible mother. You're strong and brave, and you've done everything alone, and you shouldn't have had to. You deserved better than what I gave you—than what my family did to you.”
Her eyes are shining now, but she doesn't interrupt.
“I'm so in love with you,” I continue, my voice breaking as I try to keep it barely above a whisper. I don't want to wake Ella. “You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and not just because you gave me Ella. You make me want to be better. You make me want to deserve you. My life is so much better with the two of you in it. I don’t care if it’s next week or next year. I just…I want to know that someday, you’ll both be mine. For real. No more running, no more what-ifs. Just us.”