Is it over or not |T.H|

Lexi stared at the red imprint of her bikini strap in the mirror, groaning. Sunburn. Of course.

Nikki had warned her about the Monaco sun, but in the chaos of the yacht trip and jumping off the back deck with Paddy over and over, sunscreen hadn't exactly been her top priority. She sighed and reached for the lightest, breeziest dress she had—a soft white halter with an open back and flowing skirt. She slathered on aloe like war paint and went to touch up her makeup, completely unaware of the life-altering moment she was about to waltz into.

Meanwhile, Tom was pacing in the private garden-restaurant they had rented out. His palms were sweaty. Not because of nerves (okay, a little because of nerves), but mostly because she didn't know. He'd pulled off the trip, the decoys, the dress rehearsal with Paddy pretending to be Lexi during the music cue. Everything was perfect.

Except he hadn't accounted for how the second he saw her... he'd completely lose his mind.

Lexi stepped into the doorway of the villa, cheeks pink from the sun, her hair tossed up in a messy half-bun, stray curls bouncing over her bare shoulders.

Tom looked up. And stopped breathing.

"Oh my god," he whispered under his breath. She hadn't even seen him yet. "Oh my god."

Lexi finally caught his gaze and waved. "Do I look as fried as I feel?"

Tom blinked. "You look... like a painting."

"Like lobster Van Gogh?" she teased.

"No. Like... something I could stare at for the rest of my life."

Lexi blinked. "You okay?"

"No. I'm completely fucked," he said under his breath, shaking his head with a crooked smile. Then he reached out for her hand. "Let's go."

The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon when they walked into the garden. Lexi looked around, her sandals crunching softly on the gravel.

There were fairy lights in the trees.

Candles.

A tiny, vintage record player spinning softly in the corner.

And then the opening piano keys hit.

"B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets..."

Lexi froze, eyes snapping to Tom.

"Wait—"

He grinned. "Let's call it full circle."

"No. No way. Not this early, not now, we haven't even—"

She stopped talking.

Because Tom was already getting down on one knee.

"Lexi," he began, holding the small velvet box in both hands like it might float away, "I lost you once. For three years. I lost us. And every second since then, I've just been trying to catch up to you again."

Lexi's breath hitched.

"I'm not gonna wait another three years. Or three weeks. Or three minutes. I've loved you since you danced on a bar with me singing Elton John and told me not to be scared."

The chorus kicked in behind them and she nearly burst out laughing through her happy-tears.

"I've never been more scared of anything," Tom said, his voice shaking. "But I'd rather fall flat on my face than spend one more day pretending I don't want to marry you. So... will you? Will you marry me?"

Lexi blinked. "This is so early. I just got a sunburn! I was not prepared for this!"

Tom laughed. "I'll put aloe on your back every night for the rest of our lives, I swear."

She still didn't speak, her jaw slack, eyes glassy.

He tilted his head with a nervous, hopeful smile. "Lex?"

She let out a sharp breath.

Then pounced forward—again—and kissed him straight on the mouth.

"You're an idiot," she whispered.

"Is that a yes?"

Lexi looked down at the ring, then up at Tom.

Then grinned.

"Shiny, shiny."

Tom's grin broke into a full-on laugh, tears in his eyes. "That's a yes?"

"That's a hell yes."

They danced in the garden as the song played on, Tom spinning her under the strings of fairy lights, both of them messy, emotional, and completely, fully home.

And as the final piano note of Bennie and the Jets faded into the Monaco evening, Lexi whispered in his ear:

"Don't ever lose me again."

Tom kissed her temple, his hands on her waist, forehead pressed to hers.

"Never."