Chapter 7 - Ask Me Now
Six months later, I was standing inside the same glass conservatory where Mara had nearly died.
Only now, there was sunlight instead of rain.
Margaret had filled the room with plants.
Apparently she considered my complete inability to identify any of them a personal failure.
“You’re pacing,” she said.
“I’m standing.”
“You have crossed the floor seventeen times.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’ve been thinking for six months.”
I looked at her.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Mara’s.”
“Of course.”
Margaret adjusted a vase.
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“She might say no.”
Margaret laughed.
I frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
The conservatory door opened.
Mara walked in.
She wore a simple cream dress and carried two folders.
“Why is Margaret smiling like that?”
Margaret immediately left.
Coward.
Mara looked around.
“You changed the room.”
“You said it reminded you of the hospital.”
“It did.”
“So I changed it.”
Her gaze softened.
“That was thoughtful.”
I pointed toward the folders.
“What are those?”
“Final audit.”
“And?”
“Your foundation passed.”
“Your foundation.”
She smiled.
“Fine. Our foundation.”
That mattered more than it should have.
Over the previous six months, Mara had rebuilt the Vale Foundation from the ground up.
Independent oversight.
Public audits.
Anonymous employee reporting.
No payment could move without multiple approvals.
The recovered pharmaceutical shipment had been returned through legal channels, and every worker affected by Victor’s theft had received compensation.
Catherine Rowe was serving her sentence while cooperating with investigators.
Victor was awaiting trial.
My world had not magically become clean.
But I had changed what I could.
Mara had insisted that mattered.
She walked toward the windows.
“You remember this spot?”
“Yes.”
“I woke up in the hospital thinking you would be furious at me.”
“For collapsing?”
“For exposing Victor.”
I moved beside her.
“I’m sorry you ever had reason to think that.”
“I don’t anymore.”
That was the sentence I had been waiting six months to hear.
Mara turned.
“Why did you ask me here?”
I reached into my jacket.
Her eyes widened.
“Dominic.”
The same velvet box.
The same ring.
But this time I didn’t hide behind timing.
I dropped to one knee.
Mara covered her mouth.
I said, “Six months ago, you told me not to ask until you could trust the reason.”
Her eyes filled.
I kept going.
“I’m not asking because I almost lost you.”
I opened the box.
“I’m asking because every morning since then has reminded me why I wanted you before any of it happened.”
Mara whispered, “Dominic…”
“I love that you argue with me.”
She laughed through tears.
“I love that you think contracts are optional when people need help.”
“They often are.”
“They absolutely are not.”
“Continue.”
“I love that you still bring me cinnamon rolls even though I never finish them.”
“You should.”
“I love that you make Margaret take Sundays off.”
“She threatened me.”
“She did.”
Mara wiped beneath one eye.
“And?”
“And I love that you were brave enough to walk away from me when staying would have been easier.”
Her smile disappeared into something quieter.
I looked up at her.
“I can’t promise I’ll never make a mistake.”
“You definitely will.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But I promise I will never again treat your love like something guaranteed.”
The conservatory became silent.
“Mara Ellis, will you marry me?”
She stared at me for several seconds.
Long enough to destroy what remained of my confidence.
Then she said, “I have one condition.”
Of course she did.
“What?”
“If I cry at the wedding…”
I closed my eyes.
She started laughing.
I stood.
“Mara.”
“No, I’m serious.”
I took her face gently between my hands.
“If you cry at the wedding, I’ll probably cry too.”
She stared at me.
“Dominic Vale cries?”
“No witnesses have survived to confirm it.”
She laughed again.
Then her hands settled over mine.
“Yes.”
I stopped breathing.
“Yes?”
“Yes, Dominic.”
I kissed her before she could change the answer.
Margaret started applauding from behind the door.
Mara pulled away.
“Were you listening?”
Margaret entered.
“The entire household was listening.”
Behind her appeared Daniel.
Then Elias.
Then Dr. Chen.
Even Agent Benton stood awkwardly near the hallway holding a glass of champagne.
I stared at them.
“This was supposed to be private.”
Mara smiled.
“You employ terrible secret keepers.”
“Apparently.”
Three months later, we married in that conservatory.
No politicians.
No business associates trying to impress me.
No hundred-person guest list.
Just people we trusted.
Mara cried during her vows.
I did not tell her to stop.
Instead, I wiped her tears.
When it was my turn, I looked at the woman I had once nearly lost because arrogance had convinced me there would always be another chance.
“There was a morning,” I told her, “when you needed me to listen and I didn’t.”
Mara squeezed my hands.
“I remember.”
Everyone laughed softly.
“I spent years believing strength meant never hesitating. You taught me something different.”
Her eyes filled again.
“What?”
“That sometimes hesitation really is the moment your conscience catches up with you.”
She smiled.
“And did yours finally catch up?”
I kissed her hand.
“Yes.”
Years later, employees at the Vale Foundation would know Mara as its chairwoman.
They would know she expanded medical coverage into six states.
They would know no injured worker ever again had to beg for help.
Most would never know about the notebook she dropped beside a rain-covered window.
Or the unfinished sentence.
If I don’t make it—
Mara eventually completed it.
Not during an investigation.
Not in fear.
She wrote the ending on our first wedding anniversary and left the notebook on my desk.
I opened it that night.
The old sentence remained.
If I don’t make it—
Underneath, Mara had added:
But I did.
Then another line.
And so did we.
I found her in the kitchen eating the last cinnamon roll.
“You took mine.”
“You never eat them.”
“I was going to.”
“You always say that.”
I wrapped my arms around her from behind.
She leaned back against me.
Outside, rain began tapping softly against the windows.
Mara looked toward it.
“Thinking about that morning?”
“Unfortunately.”
She turned in my arms.
“You know you can stop apologizing.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
She smiled.
“Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“I’m happy.”
Three words.
That was all.
Not forgiven because I was powerful.
Not forgiven because I had fixed everything.
Simply loved because I had finally learned to listen.
I kissed her forehead.
“So am I.”
And for the first time in my life, the sound of rain against the glass didn’t remind me of the day I almost lost her.
It reminded me that she stayed.
May you like
Not because I ordered her to.
Because she chose to.
