Once the party dies down, Jack and Rose are left with an empty house. Molly, not wanting to impose, or perhaps wanting her own space, had let a hotel room in Eau Claire— her car making the half hour journey rather easy. Fabrizio and his family had been welcomed into the home of Miranda and William— Jack hadn't wanted to give the local inn any more patronage after the owners' rudeness towards Rose. Perhaps sensing that Rose and Jack needed some time alone together, Miranda had suggested that Josephine stay over for the night as well, under the guise of helping with Rose's birthday brunch which had been planned for the next morning at the diner which would be closed to regular patrons.
As Rose says her farewells until the next day and closes the door as Molly takes the last leave, Jack can't help but study her. She's vibrant tonight; glowing. He can't tell if its the excitement of her party, or the warm giddiness brought on by the champaign, or the thrill of her newly shorn hair and short skirt. As she turns around and leans her back against the door, eyes closed and silly smile upon her face, he decides that it has to be all three factors working at once.
She chuckles to herself and opens her eyes, her gaze finding his instantly, and she walks towards where he has perched himself on the back of the sofa to get the weight off of his leg. His arms reach out to her seemingly of their own accord, and wrap around her waist, pulling her close.
"Thank you, Jack, for the party. It was lovely. I'm not sure how you managed it."
"Oh, it was pretty easy. Actually, I think Molly and Fabrizio both wanted to make sure that you're real and that I hadn't gone crazy and dreamt it." He can't help but to grin at the humor of it, before turning more serious.
He allows himself to study her again. He doesn't think that he has been able to look away since she had arrived home. One glance at her new look had set his heart hammering in his chest and it had been all he could do not to sink his fingers into her drastically shorter curly locks. He allows himself that luxury now that they're alone.
The expression that passes over Rose's face is much more shy than he has ever seen her, and even a little apologetic.
"I shouldn't have cut my hair on a whim like that," she says. "Do you hate it? You can tell me the truth."
"Hate it?" Jack is shocked by the idea. "Rose, I love it!" He sweeps it away from her eyes, twisting a soft curl around his finger. "You're gorgeous, Rose. Always. Whether your hair is long or short." He tilts his head to the side, looking at her as he would for a drawing. "It suits you. You're a new modern woman. And that dress!" His eyes sweep lower, taking in the curves and leg that the garment shows off. "Were you trying to kill me?"
Rose shakes her head at him, but clearly appreciates the praise. He pulls her closer, settling his arms around her in a full hug, his chin resting on her shoulder as she stands and he continues to perch against the couch back. Breathing her in, he glances towards the clock on the wall across the room. It's now two past midnight.
"How does it feel to be twenty-seven?" he asks, his lips brushing her ear. She pulls back enough to see him and there is humor in her expression.
"How does it feel to be thirty?" She asks, eyebrow raised.
He grins. "Touché." He kisses her softly on the lips. "Happy birthday, Rose."
Jack doesn't think there will ever be a time when he won't lose himself in Rose's kiss. His heart and soul belong to her so entirely that sometimes it scares him and he feels as if he's the same twenty-year old boy who had once trembled in her embrace. In a way he was the same. A decade had passed, and yet when you put together all of the time they have spent with one-another, everything was still brand new— just a few months old, and yet he had not a doubt in his mind that this was to be the rest of his life— it didn't matter what they did, or where they went, they were a family now, him, Rose and Josephine, and so he brings up the subject that had been on his mind all evening, as they had been surrounded by their friends and loved ones.
He pulls back from her, to catch her eye, his hands finding hers.
"Jack what— " She starts.
"Marry me." He interjects, part question, part statement, and watches as amusement and puzzlement cross over her.
"Of course, Jack. That's the plan," she says, lifting the hand where her ring sits. She still has confusion laced in her voice.
"I know," Jack says, trying to string his thoughts together more coherently, as blurting out the question hadn't said what he meant. She was going to marry him. That was the plan. And yet they had not actually planned anything thus far— too content to be growing together and finding what normal meant for their abnormal relationship. "What I mean is let's get married. This week. Tomorrow even."
"Jack, that's crazy!"
He grins, his hands settling again on her waist. "Is it though?" He asks. "We've done crazier things. I seem to recall you jumping back onto a sinking ship."
"But there's so much to think about! Flowers, a dress, food…"
He silences her with another kiss, not surprised at all that her thoughts had immediately turned to worries about arrangements. She would never fully escape the idea that things always had to be done "right," or "properly," without a little encouragement to break the mold.
"Rose," he reminds her, "We're already married. Legally, anyway. There's nothing in the world stopping us from having a ceremony of our own. All of our friends are in town, and who knows when that will happen again. You can wear whatever you want. I'd marry you even if you were wearing a sack. We can get you a bouquet in town, or hell, from the front yard even."
A grin breaks over her. "Alright," she says with a shrug.
Jack's heart speeds up a little. "Alright?" he asks, needing to hear her answer again to be sure.
She nods, smile wide. "Alright."
He whoops, standing and spinning her around in his arms.
"Jack, stop it. Your leg. You'll hurt yourself," she admonishes, still smiling. He can't help but to kiss her again, deeply.
Soon, the fire is dying down, and they retreat up to their now shared bedroom to fight the chill gathering in the air. As they close the door behind them her hands are needier when she reaches for him this time, tangling into his shirt as she pulls him into another searing kiss.
"You're an angel," he tells her, unafraid to speak his thoughts while walking the both of them towards their bed. "And you're going to be my wife."
"You're my angel, Jack." She responds, pulling him to sit with her as they scoot towards the pillows. "You saved me in every way a person can be saved, and you're still here to do it again every day. I love you."