No More Waiting, She Chooses Love



"Why do you even have to ask me if you want to do something?" Ernest shot back at me.

I was nuzzled into the crook of his neck, avoiding his gaze, my fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "Because I worry you might overthink things, that it might make you unhappy."

I felt his forehead press against mine, then a gentle kiss landed, "So, you're being considerate of me."

His voice was laced with pleasure, a pleasure born from my care for him.

Indeed, men too need to be loved.

"Yeah, you're my boyfriend. I don't want you to think I could just leave you for another guy, and I definitely don't want you to feel uneasy about me having any sort of connection with an ex," I confessed, laying my thoughts bare.

Treat others as you would like to be treated.

After all the backstabbing I've endured, I could never do the same to Ernest.

"Licia, you caring so much about me," Ernest said in a way that reminded me of Conrad's resentful words at the airport.

He claimed I never cared for him, but that was unjust. I did care; it just never seemed to matter to him.

"Of course, you're my boyfriend, my top priority," I declared openly.

There's a saying, "If you love someone, say it loud," so I wanted Ernest to know my true feelings.

That way, even if I got involved with another man in any way, he wouldn't misinterpret it and could view it objectively.

Ernest gently lifted my face to look at him, "Licia, we're in love, but we're still individuals. You can tell me what you want to do, but you don't need my permission."

"How can that be?" I laughed, then countered, "So, you think there are things you don't need to tell me?"

"Not at all, I would tell you everything and seek your approval," Ernest's words seemed a bit hypocritical. "Ernest, you're really tough on yourself," I teased.

He looked into my eyes, deep and earnest. Because I'm a man, and you're different. You're a woman, and

you should be treated with extra kindness and generosity. Whatever you do, it's right."

I laughed, "Ernest, you're such a feminist. If you ever have a daughter, she's going to be spoilt to the heavens."

Ernest's Adam's apple bobbed, "Yeah, our daughter, of course, I'd spoil her."

I was startled for a moment, then my cheeks heated, and I buried my face back into his neck, "Who said anything about having a daughter with you?" "Well, not now. After we're married," Ernest whispered near my ear.

Hearing him talk about marriage brought me back to when he mentioned the collaboration

between Jeremy Collins and the

Wagner family being a succesNôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

meaning he'd have the money to marry me, "So, how's Mr. Collins' deal with Conrad going?"

"It's almost finalized," Ernest said, tightening his hold on my waist, "Why, eager to become Mrs. Collins?"

I shook my head against his neck, bashfully denying, "Not at all, just asking."

"But I am," Ernest murmured, "Every day, I think about it."

His words sounded as though he hadn't yet claimed me, even though he clearly had.

I couldn't ask directly, so I subtly responded, "Aren't we together already?"

I didn't let Ernest finish because I kissed him.

That was enough. No more reasons were needed.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, blending into our impassioned kiss.

Ernest, startled by my tears, stopped the kiss.

I turned to face him, tears running down my face, but still smiling-the biggest, happiest smile I've had in a decade.