Page 123 of Returned Mail

“More than good,” I call back, smiling as I peel a piece of tape off my sleeve. “Everything is fantastic.”

He laughs. A low, warm sound that still hits me in the spine. “That’s because you haven’t seen the kitchen yet.”

“What’s in the kitchen?”

“No idea, but you should go check.”

I wipe my hands on my leggings and head toward the kitchen, stepping around the maze of boxes. Light pours in through the huge windows, hitting the countertops we agonized over choosing, making the space look like something out of a home magazine.

And then I see it.

A letter and a tiny blue box. Both were sitting at the center of the counter. My heart immediately tries to escape my body.

“George?” I call softly.

No answer.

I pick up the letter first.

My name is written in his handwriting. The same handwriting that once came in envelopes postmarked from another world. My fingers tremble as I open it. His voice floods the page.

Mia,

From the moment you opened that first letter of mine, you changed the direction of my life.

This home is the first place I’ve ever wanted to grow old. And it’s because you’re in it. I don’t want another day without calling you, my family.

My partner.

My always.

Now, open the box.

— George

My breath catches hard, and my vision goes blurry. I open the small white box with shaking fingers, and there it is.

A ring.

A simple, beautiful, gold band with a diamond that catches the morning light and scatters it across the counter. I press a hand to my mouth, tears stinging in my eyes. I can feel him behind me. He steps close—close enough for his chest to warm my back, close enough for his breath to brush my shoulder.

“Mia,” he murmurs.

I turn as he drops to one knee.

The air leaves my lungs entirely. He takes my free hand gently, his thumb brushing the inside of my wrist as if he’s memorizing the moment.

“Marry me,” he says softly. “Be my wife. Be my home. Let me spend the rest of my life loving you in every way I never thought I’d get the chance to.”

I’m crying.

Like actually crying.

I laugh through it, nodding too hard, trying to breathe and failing spectacularly.

“Yes,” I whisper. Then louder. “Yes.”

He exhales like I just saved his life. He stands, cups my face in both hands, and kisses me… slow, deep, and perfect. The kind of kiss that feels like an answer to every question we never asked. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.