"It's in no way gonna be today. Kyle, what do you even think?" I glare at him, crossing my arms. His expression doesn't falter—still as serious as ever—but I can't tell if he's joking or actually losing it.
He blinks once, then twice, still looking at me like this is the most reasonable thing in the world. "Why not today? I can book a hotel ballroom right now. A famous designer. Gold-plated invitations, if you want."
Is he out of his mind?
I take a breath and try to stay calm. "Kyle, I've dreamed of my wedding day my whole life. I want the dress fittings, the endless cake tastings, the flowers. I want the stress, the breakdowns, the big reveal! I want to choose my perfume for the day like it's the most important decision in the world."
He watches me silently. For once, he seems unsure of what to say.
"And what about my parents? You think they'll just be okay with me walking out of the house today and showing up married by dinner? My mom will throw a saucepan at my head."
That finally makes him laugh.
"I just want you," he says softly. "I've never wanted anything more."
That gentle tone—it's what always breaks me. I feel it sink into my chest and make my heart flutter. "I know," I whisper. "But can we just take our time? Please. I want to enjoy every second of this. With you."
"Okay," he says after a pause. "I understand. Just... don't make me wait too long, alright?"
A tiny smile tugs at my lips. "I won't. I promise."
He nods, though his fingers twitch restlessly. "Twyla, you're putting so many restrictions. You're driving me insane."
And yet, he still smiles like he's the happiest man alive.
That night, he takes me to a beautiful rooftop restaurant. The sky is painted in soft lavender and orange, the air cool, the scent of jasmine around us. I'm not sure if it's the food or the look in his eyes, but I feel like I'm floating.
He orders dessert. I play with the napkin. My eyes drift to the ring on my hand and a new kind of fluttery panic hits me. I'm engaged. I'm actually going to marry him.
When I get home, I sit with my parents in the living room, bracing for drama. But instead, they exchange a long look, then nod.
"If this is what you want," my dad says slowly, "then we'll support you."
"What?" I blink, shocked. "Are you... serious?"
"You love him, don't you?" Mom asks, her voice gentler than I expected. "Then we'll make it work."
That night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I think about how fast everything is moving. I love him. He loves me. It's real. It's happening. But part of me still feels like a little girl playing pretend. I guess growing up sneaks up on you like this—wrapped in tuxedos and white dresses and promises you never thought would come so soon.
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20 Days In His Bedroom
RomanceShe boarded a plane with her family. She left it with a stranger. Twyla never imagined a crash would change everything. One minute, she was the shy girl squeezed between her parents. The next, she was trapped beside him-a complete stranger with shar...
