Chapter 6

"You're crazy," Charlie sighed, overwhelmed as she stared at the ring that Monroe was holding out to her.

As if this was some sign of encouragement, Bass grinned and asked, "Do you wanna see how much crazier I can get?" He dropped to one knee and took her hand, saying "Charlotte Matheson, will you marry me?"

Charlie froze. There he was, the most absurdly complicated man in the universe, putting aside every iota of pride or ego he'd ever had to lay his destiny at her feet. It was inconceivable to try and equate the Monroe she saw before her now with who he'd been as head of his Republic. It was just as impossible to see herself as the revenge-fueled girl on a vendetta who had since become a woman capable of accepting and effecting redemption in her worst enemy. But it was all true and they'd both come so unfathomably far.

Bass' eager, unrelenting gaze tore away all of her defenses, the little voices whispering in her ear about her family's reactions to such a decision, how this might ruin what little progress she'd made in getting them to accept the relationship. Even the fact that she'd never really been a marrying kind of girl in the first place, not having been especially impressed with the examples life had presented her of the institution.

"I-" the word caught in her throat, choking her, and she caught herself up short again, rooted to the spot where his eyes held her spellbound. Could she spend the rest of her days falling further into that interminable blue gaze? What would happen if she answered yes? Or no?

"C'mon, Charlie," Bass encouraged, "Not that embarrassing myself for you isn't always exhilarating, but you mind letting me off the hook here?"

Charlie took a deep breath and looked around, taking in the peaceful evening, with stars beginning to dot the blackening sky above them. The formerly lonely house, detached from all sense of community with the neighboring town, now filled with warmth and happiness neither of them would have thought possible back when they were hell-bent on smothering their feelings for one another until the end of time rather than expose their vulnerabilities by admitting them.

"Yes," Charlie said in a louder voice than she'd intended. To hell with everyone else in the world. As Monroe stood and slid the ring on her finger, then scooped her up and spun her around in a blissful circle, Charlie knew that he was her world.

"Where did you get this ring?" Charlie asked, holding her hand out in disbelief.

"I bought it from those vendors on the road today," Bass explained. "There was a little old lady selling jewelry, and this caught my eye. I know it's nothing fancy, but maybe someday I can get you a better one."

Charlie smiled at the simple gold band with a tiny diamond embedded in the middle. "No. I love it. It's perfect." It suited her decidedly un-fancy tastes and represented something much more important than finery.

"So, you distracted me with that orange," she observed, remembering that she hadn't been watching him all that closely while he was gathering supplies earlier, since she had been minding the recruits in the back of the wagon.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" She had a million questions.

"About proposing? Since the moment I realized how I felt about you. Ages ago. I was going to set up more of a romantic moment to do it, though. You little thief." Monroe was staring down at her hand too, dazed as if he also couldn't believe this was really happening.

"How was I supposed to know?" Charlie shrugged teasingly. "And I don't think anything could have been more romantic than this," she added more seriously. And she couldn't quite believe how the word "romantic" now rolled easily off her tongue, after living her whole life expecting to never really find that old-fashioned concept of love.

"I thought I was totally doomed before I met you," Bass recalled, pressing his forehead to hers. "And I deserved to be. Doomed to never find happiness, and resigned to have everyone I loved constantly taken from me. Once I fell for you, I thought it was just another version of that. I thought you'd hate me forever and I'd be stuck loving you from afar, doomed again."

"Well, you were wrong," Charlie whispered, kissing him tenderly.

"Yes," Monroe agreed. "First I had to realize that I'd spent a long time being wrong about most things. And even though I hadn't earned the right to love you, I still could. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you."

"The rest of our lives," Charlie repeated, liking the sound of it more than she ever thought she'd like anything. What had happened to her cynical disdain of monogamy? Her dismissal of committing to anything when deadly battles were cropping up at every turn, and it could all be lost at any moment? Now it seemed that no risk was too great as long as she could have Monroe. Her entire outlook on life had shifted, just as his had, because of the effect they had on each other. It was, and felt, incredible.

"It's lucky you find me so irresistible," Bass murmured, never so sexy as when he was boasting.

"Oh, you're irresistible, huh?" Charlie laughed, "What does that make me?"

"I'll show you," Monroe announced, sweeping her off her feet again and carrying her inside to the bed.

When they finally got to town for dinner, the bare-bones eating establishment was sparsely populated. Charlie and Monroe sat mostly inattentive to their food, their hands clasped across the table like a couple of infatuated teenagers. She couldn't help musing that amidst all of his badass attitude and track record, there were those insane moments when he was downright cute.

"What are you smiling at?" Bass asked, taking a bite of potatoes without releasing her hand.

"I'll let you wonder about that," she answered slyly, her eyes turning from flirtatious to guarded when she noticed Miles and Rachel walking in. But she didn't let go of Monroe's hand or try to conceal the ring. They'd have to deal with this eventually, so why try and delay the inevitable?

Rachel just nodded to them and went to order food for herself and Miles, "to go," Charlie mentally predicted. Yet even her mother's lack of blatant animosity towards Monroe was such a huge step that she slightly dreaded the consequences of Rachel's learning about the engagement.

"I can't believe that you two, of all people, are so PDA-happy," Miles quipped by way of greeting, pausing beside their table. "What's happening to the universe, anyway?"

"Maybe we learned from the best," Charlie suggested, implying that seeing Miles' affection for Rachel had been an influence.

"Yeah, talk about the pot calling the kettle—" Bass began, but Miles cut him off.

"Don't finish that sentence, you idiot," Miles said bluntly, squinting down at Charlie's hand. "What in God's name is that?"

"What does it look like?" Bass replied, non-plussed.

"It looks like you two are even more deranged than I thought," Miles noted tartly, grimacing and rolling his eyes as the full realization hit him. "Great. Just great. Rachel is going to kill both of you."

Miles' attitude suggested that his primary reaction was annoyance at the drama that was probably going to erupt shortly. Charlie didn't think he seemed that upset about the engagement itself, which she notched as a small win in her mind.

"Don't joke about that, Miles," said Monroe blithely, "there was a time when she definitely would have, and tried to, murder me."

"I'm not joking," Miles retorted with a hollow chuckle. "Good luck with this."

Although Miles would never admit it, when he placed his arm snugly around Rachel's shoulders and guided her out of the eatery, Charlie suspected that he wanted to give herself and Monroe one night to enjoy their new engagement before all hell broke loose. She nodded to him in thanks when he glanced back over his shoulder at them, but Miles merely rolled his eyes again in response. Charlie smiled in strange contentment at her crazy life.

"She'll find out soon enough," Monroe observed.

"True," Charlie agreed, "and we'll deal with it."

"Right. So, should we discuss wedding plans?" Bass asked with a grin far more mischievous than the question required. Only Bass Monroe could make a conversation about wedding details seem so alluring.

"I have no clue how to do any of that," Charlie admitted. "Can we just make it simple? Do it here in town?"

"Fine with me," Monroe agreed easily, "but there's just one thing I'm not backing off on."

"What's that?" she asked, sitting back and crossing her arms in humorous anticipation of his requirement.

"You are wearing a dress. A real, genuine wedding dress," Bass insisted.

"Oh, come on!" Charlie complained, but relented when he raised his eyebrows, sticking to his guns. She sighed heavily. "Fine. Suddenly, dealing with my mom doesn't seem like the hardest part about this."