I pick my head up and look at him, my brows drawing tight. Within six months after we got back together, I moved to Brooklyn Heights to be with him. We’d spent two years apart and didn't want to waste any more time than we already had. It only made sense since we were at each other's home every night anyway. He offered to come live with me, but I knew being in Brooklyn was better for him, so I’d packed up the cats and moved in with him.

I kept my grammy’s house, though. I can't bear to let it go, but I hate to see it empty too, so I use it now as a transitional home for those in my shelter who've taken the steps to get on their feet. There's no charge for rent, just utilities. They have to start somewhere. Living in New York is extremely expensive—one of the priciest places to live in the world—and I want to give these women a chance they deserve. There are strict rules they have to follow, along with monthly check-ins, but I know my grammy would've loved it and that makes me feel good inside.

My brows deepen. "Can I ask why?"

"I picked that place out, had a decorator come in and spice it up. We didn't pick anything out together, and I want something we both love that's only ours." His tongue slips out over his bottom lip, like he's hesitating. "I want us to have a place to call our own, where we can continue creating more moments. I want everything with you, Aubrey. A marriage, a home. I'm in this for life, sweetheart, and I'm ready to take the next step with you."

Three

My eyes soften at his words.

I didn't think it was possible for my heart to grow any bigger with love for this man, but clearly I was wrong. I'm smiling from ear to ear so hard my blushed cheeks are aching.

"James Riviera, how are you the sweetest man in the world?"

Creases form between his eyes and the muscles in his body stiffen. That isn't something I expected.

"I'm serious, Aubrey. You're my life and I love you. I want us to be more, and I think buying a new home that's ours is a step in the right direction."

I giggle from how adorable he is. I can't help it. Sometimes men are so dumb it's painful. James is getting worked up for no reason.

"Babe?"

He doesn't respond. James is lost in his stare and I giggle again at how hard he's thinking. He can't possibly think I feel any less for him, right?

Sliding my leg higher on him, I hook his thigh with mine and twine our limbs together. My palms skim over his heavenly chest, then to his arm where he had a map of the world tattooed when we got back together. It was expertly done with a fine needle and black ink, and spans from the top of his shoulder down to his wrist.