“I don’t know, but I sure as hell wouldn’t change a thing.”
“There was something about you that first night, you know?” he says, his voice thick with emotion that has me looking up at him. “It was like I walked in and saw this gorgeous woman drinking a whiskey, and I was intrigued. Then you had the gall to ignore me.”
“I was making you work for it,” I tease, remembering how pissed I was that he didn’t leave me be.
Thank god he didn’t.
“The funny part is this has been the most effortless thing I’ve ever had to work at in my life. It just is with you, Blakely,” he says as I press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Before you, I thought there would have to be a trade-off—either a woman or my job. It is a demanding one, and I didn’t think I could give one hundred percent to both . . . but I was dead wrong. What I didn’t realize is that having you beside me makes work even better because I have someone to come home to at night. I have someone to share things with.”
“Where is all of this coming from?” I murmur as lights in the grass between where we’re sitting and the lake start to flicker to life.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Maybe I’m just realizing how grateful I am that you put up with my crazy, spontaneous ideas like taking a ride to the mountains when I know you hate them. Maybe it’s knowing that something I did put a smile on your face or feeling your kiss on my shoulder when you wake up and slide out of bed to let me get a few more hours of sleep.”
I repeat the same thing I tell myself all the time when it comes to Slade: he’s too good to be true.
And he is.
Thank god he’s mine.
“You know,” I say as more solar lights illuminate, “if you want to get in a tit-for-tat conversation about all the ways you’ve made me happy, I’d be more than willing to go there, but I think we’d be out here all night.”
“Perfect. The porch swing. Wine. A—”
“Mosquitos,” I say, and we both chuckle as a cricket to the right of us begins to chirp. “We could make a list then. Compare notes. You know, typical date-night behavior.”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart, offering up list making as a romantic pastime.”
“What can I say, you’ve converted me.”
He clears his throat. “There’s only one thing left on my list right now.”
“Oh really? What’s that? Sex on the patio with the crickets watching?”
His smile pulls up one corner of his mouth. “Not a bad idea, but not the one I had forefront in my mind.”
“You’re turning down sex? Geez. Eighteen months and the spontaneity and passion are gone,” I tease.
“Not gone.” He chuckles softly. “They’re only just beginning, Blakely.”
“What?” I turn to look at him. There’s emotion welling in his eyes, and I see he’s holding something out to me. “What is . . .” but the words fade as my fingers hold the worn and tattered napkin from Metta’s all those months ago.
And I choke over a surprised sob when I see the last line item.
“Slade?” I ask when my eyes are very capable of reading what he’s written.
“I mean it. You’re it for me, Blakely. The beginning, the end, and every breath and moment between. Sometimes it’s hard to fathom that it doesn’t get any better than this, but when it comes to us, I truly believe it doesn’t. I fall more in love with you every single day, and I know that we’ve never really talked about if you want to get married again, and if you don’t, I understand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to know I still want to spend the rest of our lives together in whatever capacity that might be. And—”
“Will you stop talking?” I laugh the words out as I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him toward me for a kiss, much the same way he did me that night we decided there was an us.
This time, there is something a little sweeter about our kiss, something a bit more poignant in the moment. This time, it tastes like tomorrows and forevers and all the things you want to share with someone. This time I know it’s real.
“Blakely—”
“Will you stop trying to convince me when I already know how I feel. When I already know—”
“Don’t you need a ring to—”
“I don’t care about a ring. I only care about you. About us. And—oh my god, it’s gorgeous.” I stare at the diamond sparkling in the rising moonlight as tears well in my eyes. “It’s . . . Slade.” I look up to him while I’m at a total loss for words and see tears glistening in his eyes too. “Yes. The answer is always a million times over, yes, when it comes to you.”
Our lips meet through our smiles and the taste of tears on our tongues, my heart irrevocably his. And our kiss turns into laughter that echoes all around us as if the forest around us is joining in our happiness too.
“Thank god you said yes. You know how I like my task lists completed.”
“Oh geez.” I roll my eyes.
“I guess this would be a good time to tell you I bought this cabin too.”
“You what?” I shriek.
And, this time, when I launch myself at him, we fall clumsily into the grass.
Our kisses turn to sighs.
Our sighs turn into moans.
And we make love for the first time with so much promise before us. With a future we can’t wait to fully live out.
Slade Henderson asked me to marry him.
Me.
I
