Caprice - Marry Me <ORIGINAL Roundup>

Her name was Caprice.

She didn’t say “yes.” She didn’t say “no.”

“I’m always thinking,” Leo replied. caprice - marry me

She was smiling now, a slow, dangerous smile. “So what are you asking?”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh? Then why is your left pocket making a very box-shaped bulge?” Her name was Caprice

Leo set down the champagne. His heart, usually a steady metronome, was now a timpani drum. He had rehearsed this. For weeks. He had a speech about stability, about building a foundation, about the logical next step. He had a backup speech about passion, about how she made his spreadsheets feel like poetry. He had a third speech that was just bullet points.

She laughed—a real, full laugh that echoed off the water towers. Then she reached out, took the box from his hand, and opened it herself. The diamond inside was small, imperfect, a little off-kilter. He’d chosen it on purpose. It looked like her. “So what are you asking

“You’re thinking too loud,” Caprice said, not looking up from the small sketch she was drawing on a napkin—something abstract, probably a new tattoo idea.

And when the justice—such as he was—said, “You may kiss the bride,” Caprice grabbed Leo by the tie and kissed him like a sudden storm.

So he abandoned the plan.

Caprice winced theatrically. “You’re lucky you stopped.”