on the back of her head was matted in parts and strands were sticking up.
“You are a genius, Will,” she told him, looking at her hand. “Seriously, you hid
the ring for me to find. Most guys would have proposed after a nice dinner or have
the waiter bring over a glass of champagne with a ring in it. But you, you made me
work for it.”
“I try,” William lied. He didn't want to burst her bubble. He also didn't want to
tell her why he had the ring in the first place.
She kissed him on the cheek.
William grabbed the trash bags while Casey unlocked the front door.
William placed the trash bags on the couch and went back to grab the seven boxes
and speakers from the back of the truck.
When he walked in with the first box, Casey led him to the third room. He had never
entered it. He’d been in her art room and her bedroom, but the third door had
always been closed.
She opened it. The walls were painted soft pink. The room was empty except for a
rocking chair in the corner. In the chair, an acoustic guitar rested.
“I know pink isn't your color,” Casey told him. “But you can consider this your
sanctuary.”
“My sanctuary?” William asked. He crossed the room and placed the box along the far
wall.
“Yes, your sanctuary,” Casey said. “You deserve a place for yourself. We'll paint
the walls if you don't like the color.”
William glanced around, taking it in.
“You can set up your stereo in here, listen to music, come in if you need to avoid
me for any reason.”