Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Right next to the vase lies another white paper.
Fifty roses mean unconditional love. No one will ever love you as much as I do.
I love you, Frances.
I spot the note for the next to last vase of roses on the counter.
Ninety-nine roses mean I love you until the day I die.
I love you, Frances.
I turn to look out the glass door that leads to the balcony and see him sitting there in the middle of the table. His head is looking down at his hand as he plays with something, and when I walk out, I see the biggest bouquet of roses I’ve ever seen in my life. “Hi,” I say, standing here and not moving. The sounds of water crashing on the beach fill the air, and when I finally look around, I see little candles lit here and there, giving us some light. “What are you doing here?” I ask him, stepping forward to look at the flowers beside him. “What is going on?”
“I’ve been sitting here thinking,” he says, his voice cracking. “Today, I asked you what you would say if I asked you to marry me, and you didn’t answer me.” My heart starts to speed up in my chest, and my tongue feels like it’s swelling up. “There are one hundred and eight roses in this vase.” He points at the flowers. “Do you know what that means?” I can’t answer him because the tears are coming nonstop, and the lump in my throat feels like a baseball. He leans forward, grabbing one of my hands in his as he gets down on one knee and the gasp that comes out sounds like a sob. “One hundred and eight roses means, will you marry me?” He looks up at me. "We haven’t been together long." He swallows, and I can see the tears in his eyes. “And I know that I don’t exactly come from a family where I know what love and marriage is. But being with you and your family, I’ve seen what it is.” He smiles shyly now. “I went to talk to your father three days ago and asked for your hand in marriage.” My eyes widen. “The only thing he asked me is does she want to marry you.” I laugh because that sounds exactly like him. “I admitted to him I had no idea. Because the truth was I didn’t. I still don’t know.” He closes his eyes. “I don’t even know what happens if you say no. Does that mean we have to break up, or is it a try again later? I have no idea about any of this. But I do know there is no one in this whole world I want to be with besides you. I want you to wear my ring forever. I want you to have my name or hyphenate it. I don’t really fucking care. The only thing I care about is spending forever with you.” I chuckle, my nerves making me laugh as I brush the tears off my face. “So I’m asking you, and you have to answer. Will you marry me, Frances?”
I don’t know what to say, but my head nods my answer. “Yes,” I whisper, and in one move, his hand is around my waist, and his lips are on mine. A clack of the box that was in his hand falling to the floor by our feet. “Is that my ring?”
“Oh, yeah, shit.” He puts me down and picks up the box. “Obviously, your father came with me because who else was going to come with me? The whole time, he’s asking me what if you said no.” He takes the box. “It was the worst experience of my life because all I could think of is what if you did say no.” He opens it now. “Thank fuck you didn’t, and I can tell him he was wrong.
“Just what a girl wants to hear after she vows to marry a man. Thank you for saying yes so I can tell your father he was wrong.”
He takes out the ring that is oval and huge. “Which hand?”
I hold out my left hand for him. “Right,” he says, slipping the ring on me, and the smile just fills his face.
“We’re engaged!” I shout, and the minute I do, I hear a bottle of champagne pop. My eyes go big when I look over the railing and see all of my family standing there cheering us on.
“Good thing you said yes.” He wraps his hand around my shoulders.
“Good thing we had sex at my cousin's wedding.” I wink at him, and he closes his eyes. “You get only one love.”
Epilogue Two
Wilson
One Year Later.
“What would your father say if we didn’t go?” I ask Frances when I walk out of the closet with my bag.