You know, the kind of box that every girl recognizes.
I gasp softly, holding the frame tightly against my chest while my eyes stay glued to the box.
His steady hands open it. “Do you know how much I love you?”
I nod and clutch the frame harder, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. I blink them away and focus on the ring that he’s holding between his fingers. “As much as I love you,” I choke out.
“No, angel. No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you. I got you beat there, I’m afraid.” He motions for my hand and I place it in his, allowing him to slip the ring on my finger. “You’re my best friend, Mia. I want you every day, for the rest of my life. I will always cherish every moment you give me. Marry me, baby.”
I’m nodding and whispering “yes” before he even finishes. And then he’s turning me and cradling me against his chest, worshipping me with kisses all over my face. “Thank you,” I say against his lips.
I feel them curl up into a smile. “For what?”
I kiss along his jaw up to his ear. “For being at the bar that night. For being the guy that you are. For giving me Nolan.” I pull back and cradle his face in my hands. “Can we have more babies?”
He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it. “Can we start right now?”
And then I’m on my back, his body covering mine. I laugh against him as he brushes my hair away from my face. “We’re in the middle of a field.”
“Don’t care. Nobody can see us anyway. Look how high up we are.”
“Yes, but I’ve been told I’m rather noisy,” I tease as he kisses my neck. He grunts once and nips at my sensitive skin there. “I love you.”
“Love you.”
“I want lots of babies.”
His head comes up and he smiles widely. “Lots.” He shifts his weight and lays his head on the pillow, pulling me so I’m lying against his chest.
And we stay like that long after Tessa and Reed return. Long after the concert starts and ends. Until we’re the only vehicle left in the field. He makes love to me under the stars, his tenderness breaking into a wild frenzy when we both need it. It’s perfect. And I’m right where I belong.
Where I always will be.
Epilogue
Ben
Mia: Meet me at our spot.
I stare down at my phone, reading the text message for the second time.
Our spot. What spot? As far as I’m concerned, every spot I’ve taken Mia to has become our spot. And we’ve racked up a lot of spots over the past four months.
I go to reread her text again when my phone beeps.
Mia: The bar, Ben.
I shake my head with a laugh.
Me: I would’ve figured it out. What have I told you about doubting me?
Mia: Just hurry up before one of the other men in here takes me home.
Me: Mia…
Mia: Kidding. Hurry though.
I’m in the parking lot within ten minutes, pulling up next to her Jeep. It’s about as crowded as it was the night Mia became mine, but I spot her on that same stool she occupied all those months ago. I don’t go to her though. Instead, I go to the side of the bar where she can’t see me and watch her without her knowing.
She’s tapping the bar anxiously with her fingers, looking over her shoulder every few seconds toward the door. Her hair is down, and she’s wearing a shirt that has my eyes going from her chest to her face and back again. I motion for the bartender.
“Can you send one of those purple drinks to that girl right there for me?”
He nods and gets to work on her drink while she pulls her phone out with a scowl. My phone beeps.
Mia: I mentioned today, right?
Me: You’re so fucking beautiful. Do you know that?
Just as my message goes through, the bartender sits the drink down in front of her. She smiles at him, looking at the drink and then glancing at her phone. Her eyes immediately find mine across the bar, and I make my way to her. My hand brushes along her back, and I claim my spot.
“You looked thirsty from where I was standing. Thought I’d help you out,” I say with a smile.
She places her one hand on my knee. “I need to talk to you about something.”
I tilt my head and push her drink closer to her. “And what is that?”
“We need to move the wedding up.” She grabs the straw between her fingers and dunks it in and out of her drink.
“Why? I thought you wanted a summer wedding? I mean, I’m all for stealing you away right now and making you my wife, but you seemed pretty dead set on the date.”
She smiles and pushes her drink away, motioning for the bartender. He stops in front of us and gives me a friendly nod before looking at her. “I’m sorry. Can you make this nonalcoholic? I can’t drink this.”
“Sure thing,” he says, taking her glass away.
She hits me with a smile and grabs my hand, laying it across her stomach. “Ben.”
“Hmm?” I’m still trying to piece together why she suddenly doesn’t want the drink that she so eagerly consumed our first go-around. It takes me a minute to focus on my hand. My eyes meet hers and she smiles. And then it clicks. “Baby, are you pregnant?” The hope in my voice dominates over the sudden anxiousness that begins to brew in my gut.
“I really don’t want to be the size of a house when I’m walking down the aisle to you. So, I was thinking maybe a spring wedding instead? I’d be five months by
