“Caprice,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “I’m not going to ask you to marry me.”
“Not in my version,” Leo said.
Marry me, Caprice? No. Just… stay.
So he abandoned the plan.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Caprice said, not looking up from the small sketch she was drawing on a napkin—something abstract, probably a new tattoo idea. caprice - marry me
“You’re more of a… beautiful, chaotic wrecking ball,” he offered.
She slipped the ring onto her own finger, held her hand up to the fairy lights, and said, “I’ll give you five years. Then we renegotiate.” “Caprice,” he said, his voice lower than usual
“But then I realized,” Leo continued, stepping closer. “I can’t ask you for forever. Because ‘forever’ implies a straight line. And you… you’re a scribble. You’re a key change in the middle of a quiet song. You’re the sudden left turn when the GPS said go right.”