Love Rents A Room
Chapter 217: The Proposal

Chapter 217: The Proposal

"Good..." Joanne whispered into his ear, pressing herself into his warmth, melting into him. She had tried to live without him. She didn’t like that version of her life.

"I already told my grandfather I want nothing to do with Winchester Logistics," Jeffrey said quietly, like a confession. "We’ll settle in Rockchapel, build that house you always dreamed about, raise our kids there, and make Shamrock a global brand. Just like we planned."

Joanne leaned back to look at him, searching his eyes as the golden hue of the setting sun caught the flecks in his irises, making them gleam like amber. He had never looked more beautiful.

"But Jeffrey Winchester..." she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Your grandfather is planning to make you the heir."

Jeffrey stilled. He hadn’t expected her to say it aloud, but deep down, he had begun to feel it too—especially after that quiet moment in the family library when Philip had looked at him with something almost like pride. That reverence... the weight of responsibility he hadn’t dared admit.

"I don’t know..." he said. "I was never part of that race. Not seriously. I never thought I could be."

Joanne could see the hesitation darken his eyes, the uncertainty that clung to him like mist.

She placed both hands on his cheeks, anchoring his gaze to hers. "Are you going to say no when he asks?" she whispered.

Jeffrey let out a soft laugh, glancing away. "Can I?"

"You can’t," she said, her voice tender but certain.

He caught the flicker of disappointment in her tone. He saw it and hated it—but he also understood it.

"We’d have an easy life if we settled in Rockchapel," she said, running her thumbs gently along his cheekbones. "But wouldn’t that be a waste?"

"A waste?" he echoed, brows rising as she squished his cheeks between her palms, narrowing his words.

She smiled, then leaned in and kissed his squished lips—soft and playful.

"I’d love nothing more than to keep you hidden in the little farm, all for myself," she said against his lips. "But you’re not meant to be hidden. You’re meant to lead. And your grandfather believes in you now. That’s not something you just walk away from."

Jeffrey stared at her, his heart full. A year ago, he’d been the shame of the Winchesters. Reckless. Directionless. Lost. And then she’d come into his life like a wildfire—burning away everything false, and lighting up everything true.

She had changed him. Grounded him. And now... he was standing at the precipice of something greater, because of her.

He kissed her. A deep, slow kiss that said everything his heart couldn’t.

Joanne responded, soft at first... then with growing need. Her back met the trunk of the ancient oak as he pressed closer, one hand bracing the bark above her head, the other slipping beneath her skirt. The setting sun bathed the world in hues of rose and gold, the trees around them whispering in the wind, like nature itself was holding its breath.

"Jeff..." Joanne whispered between their kisses, her breath catching as his hand slipped further under her skirt. "Wait for tonight..."

Her voice was gentle, but firm. As much as she ached for him, had missed his touch, and his breath on her skin, doing this in the open field of the Winchester Estate didn’t feel right. This wasn’t her farm. It wasn’t their home. At least, not yet.

Jeffrey stilled, his lips slowing until they became soft reverent kisses down her neck. He rested his forehead against the swell of her chest, the steady thrum of her heart matching his own.

In that quiet, he let himself wonder, perhaps for the first time without resentment, what his grandfather had truly intended by keeping him apart from her for so long. Maybe it wasn’t just about business. Maybe Philip Winchester had been watching more than spreadsheets and decisions.

Maybe he’d wanted to know if Jeffrey was capable of not only leading a company, but leading a life. A whole life. One built with loyalty, patience, and love that endured distance and doubt. After all, a man who couldn’t keep his marriage and his heart, together had no business carrying the legacy of a family like theirs. Divorce was not an option in the Winchester tradition, but neither was a loveless home. A good marriage was half the battle in leading a dynasty.

And they had passed. They had bled for it. Waited through the silence and the ache and the loneliness... and still loved.

Jeffrey’s heart felt full. So full it hurt.

Then, without a word, he shifted. He knelt before her in the golden grass, the trunk of the old oak at her back and the sky burning above them like fire painted across the horizon.

Joanne’s breath caught. Her hand flew instinctively to her mouth. This is it!

He reached into his pocket and took out a small, velvet box, but didn’t open it just yet. He held it gently between his hands like it carried the weight of a lifetime. When he looked at her, there wasn’t a trace of nervousness. Only clarity. Devotion. Gravity.

"I wanted to do this under the oak tree where I gave you my camera, but..." he looked around, his lips curving as he took in the scene around.

"I came here every time I missed you," he said quietly, the breeze catching the strands of his hair. "Even when I didn’t know it was you I was missing... I still came here. You were home to me long before I realized it."

Joanne’s eyes shimmered with tears. They spilled freely, silent and warm, tracking down her cheeks.

"I want to build a life with you, Jo. A loud, messy, quiet, beautiful life. I want every morning to begin with your voice and the scent of your cooking. Every night to end with your hand in mine. I want to grow old with you. Laugh with you. Fight with you. Make up, break down, cry, and heal with you."

His voice trembled now, thick with emotion.

"Wherever we are... whatever we become."

Then, he opened the box.

Inside was the ring—classic, breathtaking. The single diamond sat in the center like a drop of starlight, catching the sun’s final rays and scattering them in every direction.

Jeffrey looked up at her, heart wide open.

"Will you marry me, Joanne? Will you be my home... forever?"

Joanne could barely see him through her tears.

The sunlight glinted off the ring, but it was his eyes—those unwavering, open, beautiful eyes—that stole the air from her lungs. Her hands trembled, one still pressed to her mouth, the other fisting the fabric of her skirt to keep herself from collapsing.

The breeze whispered around them, soft as a breath, carrying the mingled scent of oak bark, grass, and the fading perfume of wildflowers. It was as if the world had gone quiet just for them. As if time itself was waiting on her answer.

She dropped to her knees before him, the velvet of the box between them like an altar. Her fingers brushed over his as she reached for it, but she didn’t take the ring.

Instead, she cupped his face.

"I used to scream your name into my pillow at night," she whispered, her voice raw and shaking. "Not because I hated you... but because I didn’t know how to survive loving you and not having you. I told myself to forget. To move on. But every inch of me... my skin, my blood, my soul... refused. You haunted every breath, every sunrise, every ache."

Her thumb stroked the sharp line of his jaw, rough with stubble, and she kissed the corner of his mouth—softly, tenderly, like she was memorizing the shape of it all over again.

"And now here you are... giving me everything I dreamed of when I thought I had nothing left. Jeffrey, you were always my home too. My fire. My peace. My ache. You are everything."

She pressed her forehead to his, their tears mingling where their cheeks touched. Her hands slid down to his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart beneath her palms.

"I want that life with you. All of it. The chaos. The quiet. The years. I want to dance in our kitchen at midnight. I want to scream at you over mixed laundry and kiss you breathless in the rain. I want to build our world with laughter and love that never breaks, even when we bend."

She took the ring then, not to admire the diamond, but to feel the warmth of it in her hand, as if it had already absorbed his promise.

"I want to be your wife, Jeffrey Winchester," she said, her voice low and sure. "I want to be your forever. Your always. Your last breath."

She slid the ring onto her finger. Her hands were trembling and Jeffrey helped her with it, where it fit like it had been waiting for her all along.

Then she kissed him—slowly, thoroughly, like a vow in and of itself.

It wasn’t just passion. It was years of longing, months of silence, the ache of almosts and the sweetness of finally.

When they pulled apart, she rested her hand on his chest, where her ring sparkled against his heartbeat.

"I love you," she whispered. "More than I have words for."

And then she smiled through her tears, radiant and whole.

"Now take me home."