But the way he's looking at me confirms my fear. Inhaling and exhaling quickly, I blink rapidly, trying to mentally ease the tightness in my chest. Maybe I'm overthinking and I'm wrong. James tugs me closer, and instinctively I try to pull away from him. The thought of James leaving me cripples me to the point that I'm breaking down inside. I'd marry him if I absolutely had to, but I really hope it won’t come to that. Then every day I would live in some state of fear that something was going to take him from me.

My knees are shaking. I'm weak and on the verge of fainting when James wraps an arm around my lower back and pulls me to stand against him. The warmth of his chest soothes my anxiety and I feel a settling in my soul that only he is able to give me. He nestles his cheek against mine and holds our hands pressed to his chest. The scruff of his beard is oddly comforting. He's holding me up knowing I can't handle another second longer. I feel like he's always holding me up, though. He's my rock. My silent warrior. He didn't ask me for anything, he didn't expect anything. Now that he was, I was rejecting him.

I sniffle, upset we're at odds over this and press myself into him. James holds me tighter and I love him more for it, but I can't help but fear he's going to leave me now too. The feeling is too gut-wrenching to ignore, no matter how hard I push the thought from me.

"Can you at least consider it, sweetheart?" James asks. "Marriage is something I really want with you. Nothing is going to happen to us. We're only going to get better. I promise you that. If you think for a second it's ruining what we have, we can get divorced and go back to dating. But please, all I'm asking is for you to think about marrying me."

"You don't know that, James," I say, my heart is in my throat. "You mean too much to me to risk it."

"I would do anything for you," he responds, his words like knives jutting between my ribs.

James's voice is one of the things that drew me to him. Deep and in the back of his throat, his spoken words can't be mistaken for anything other than validity. There's something about that I'm drawn to explicitly. He hits all the right notes in my body easily by simply talking. His vibe exudes old New York and that ups his smoking hot factor by a margin.

But when he's deep in his emotion and basically asking me to marry him, he’s fucking savage on the ears.

"You know that, right?"

I nod. "I know."

"Maybe I am old fashioned," he continues, "but I want to know that the rest of my days are sealed with yours. You're my world, my light. You give me a reason to wake up every day. Be mine forever in the way that matters most to me."