Clay Beresford had been through a lot. At just the age of 22, he had almost been killed by his best friend who was his surgeon and his fiancée- Sam. They were going to kill him to get his money, he heard everything that had happened and felt it all- he was heart broken and betrayed.

His mother had died that day and so did he, he avoided everyone and didn’t talk to anyone other than his assistant who did most of the talking for him. He would enclose himself for one year before finally coming out of his cocoon. He still had a name to himself, he always thought about what could’ve happened if his mother didn’t find out what was happening and sacrificed herself so he could get a non-deadly heart.

It was until he met you that he started to feel happiness once more, you were his assistant and the only person he would talk to for that year of silence and isolation. You were the one that made sure he had eaten and drank water each day, made sure to do the talking for him. He admired how hard you worked and how much you seemed to care for him- it felt familiar but foreign.

Clay would talk to you, more than ever after those 2 years had passed of his silence- he was willingly talking to you without being inclined to- to push his meeting away for the third time this week.

You two would end up getting together after 9 months of his feeling conflicted on what to do and how to feel, he didn’t want to be as vulnerable as he was when he was with Sam. He knew after that one year together- that he wanted you to take his last name. Now, he was looking down at you with his blue eyes and a smile playing on his lips. His hand moves up to cup your cheek, his pupils blown out wide as he admires you like you had hung up the stars. He didn’t mind being vulnerable with you, he preferred to be vulnerable with you- only you.

“I want to marry you.. i will marry you, soon.” Clay murmurs under his breath, the fire crackling in the fireplace in the living room and the aroma of wood and his signature cologne surrounds you.