Chapter 9 - THE PROPOSAL WITHOUT A RESCUE STORY
Arthur proposed six years after the alley.
At Carmichael’s Diner.
Which was offensively sentimental.
Carmichael had sold the business to his daughter by then.
The new owner paid properly.
Maeve still visited.
Arthur ordered coffee.
Bad coffee.
Authentic.
Maeve said:
“If you kneel in this place, I will leave.”
Arthur remained seated.
“Understood.”
He put a small box on the table.
Maeve stared.
“You are deeply predictable.”
“I practiced.”
“Worse.”
He opened it.
Simple ring.
No giant stone.
Good.
Arthur said:
“I have been trying to figure out how to ask without turning our beginning into some romantic debt.”
Maeve’s expression softened.
“So don't.”
He nodded.
Then:
“Maeve Nolan, you cut me loose when you didn't know my name.”
“You called police when I told you not to.”
“You said no to me repeatedly.”
“You built work that had nothing to do with me.”
“You stayed while Bruno died because he needed you, not because I did.”
His voice caught.
“And every time I tried to make a decision for you, you handed it back.”
Maeve’s eyes filled.
“I don't want to marry the woman who saved me.”
Good.
“I want to marry the woman who keeps choosing me when she is completely free not to.”
Better.
“Will you?”
Maeve looked at the ring.
Then at him.
“Yes.”
Arthur exhaled.
Carmichael’s daughter shouted from behind the counter:
“FINALLY.”
Maeve looked around.
“You told them?”
Arthur looked guilty.
“Only three people.”
“Terrible start to marriage.”
They married nine months later.
Small.
Maeve walked herself down the aisle.
Arthur’s surviving businesses stayed separate legally.
Prenup.
Independent counsel.
Maeve kept Nolan.
Arthur did not care.
May you like
Their wedding did not mention kidnapping in the vows.
Enough people had made that the headline already.
