The Dirty Series 1(132)

Then I’m there, in front of her, my breaths coming fast and water streaming down my hair, my face, into my eyes. I wipe at it with the back of my hand and then give a little laugh because fuck it is pointless, there’s so much coming down it’s like the first day of Noah’s flood.

“What are you doing here?” Jessica says to me, bewildered.

The grand speech I planned out on the plane has been wiped from my mind by the sight of her beautiful face, the curves of her cheekbones, the way the water droplets play over her flawless skin, the tendrils of wet auburn hair flattened against her forehead. “I came to see you,” I say finally.

“For what?” she says, and a gust of wind threatens to knock her hood right off her head. She reaches up and holds it in place.

I can’t look away from her. I can’t look away from those big blue beautiful eyes, bright even under the streetlight on a dreary summer night.

“I’m sorry,” I say, shouting over another boom of thunder. “I’m sorry, Jessica. I was all wrong.”

She bites her lip, and I see a flash of some emotion cross her face. What is it? Irritation? Anger?

Hope?

“I couldn’t live another moment without you. Fuck, this is coming out all wrong.”

“It’s okay,” she says, giving me the tiniest nod.

Relief sweeps through me like a stiff wind. She’s not turning away, not stalking down the street. Not yet.

She still could.

I still have more to say.

“There’s no excuse for the things I said to you,” I say, as the wind picks up, gusting around us. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I said any of it. The stress of everything—it got to me. It made me into a person I don’t want to be. And the thing is, Jessica—the thing is—.” My throat tightens, and I have to swallow before I can continue. “None of this is worth it without you. My days without you have been absolutely colorless and dull and bland and so fucking meaningless.”

Are there tears in her eyes, or is it just the rain?

“I had to come see you, to tell you this in person. And you don’t have to forgive me. You can walk away from me right now, and I’ll understand, because I was awful. You were perfect, and I was awful. But Jessica—I love you more than anyone I’ve ever met. You mean the world to me. You are my world.”

She presses her lips together and I take one last breath. “Marcus—I think he died from unhappiness. He was under so much stress, and he didn’t have anything in his life to make him feel as alive as you make me feel. I just—I fucking learned the wrong lesson when he died. I thought that the point was to do the best job I could as the crown prince, no matter what it cost me. I should have known that to die like that, without experiencing the love of a woman like you, is the worst kind of death. I love you. I’m sorry.”

She’s silent and still for a long moment as more water sluices into my eyes, and then her face breaks into the most radiant smile I’ve ever seen on another human being. “I’m not.”

“You’re not what?” I don’t know what she means.

“Sorry that you love me.”

Then she pushes her hood back away from her face, throws her arms around my neck, and kisses me, hard and hot, not giving a fuck about the audience we most certainly have watching us back under the awning.

“I love you so much, Alec,” she says, pulling back from my mouth for each word. “I was so fucking angry at you. Never do that to me again.”

“I won’t. I promise.” I know that her forgiveness is only the beginning of the work we have to do with each other, but it’s going to be so, so worth it.

Now that she’s forgiven me, my heart begins to race again…because I have one more trick up my sleeve.

Breaking off the kiss, I push her back a half step. Confusion flits across her face.

Then I get down on one knee.

“Alec!” she cries, laughing as another bolt of lightning splits the sky.

“Before we drown out here,” I say, pulling a ring box from my pocket. “This was my mother’s ring.” My mother—and my father—had excellent taste in rings, and the diamond is flawless, the setting intricate but not overdone, so I have no fear that Jessica won’t like it. “I would love for you to wear it. And for you to become my wife. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she shrieks, but she reaches out and snaps the box closed. “Don’t give it to me here, though. It might get swept into the gutter by the rain, and then what the hell would we do?”

I stand up hastily, my pants soaked through. “Where should we go?” I say, giddy, happy laughter filling my chest.