27. Maxine
CHAPTER 27
maxine
T he evening breeze carried the scent of lavender as I sat on the ranch’s wraparound porch twisting my engagement ring in the fading light. The diamond caught the sunset, throwing tiny rainbows across my hands. Sebastian outdid himself. Not just with the ring but with everything. The hilltop, the lights, the memories of stargazing with Dad…
A flash of iridescent wings caught my eye. A dragonfly hovered near the porch railing; its presence so unexpected it stole my breath. Dad always said dragonflies were messengers carrying wisdom between worlds. He'd point them out during our walks, telling stories about change and adaptation, about finding beauty in transformation.
"Hey there," I whispered, not daring to move as it landed on the railing beside me. Its wings shimmered blue and green in the dying light, reminding me of the locket around my neck. And of Dad's smile when he gave it to me.
"You'd like how he treats me, Dad," I said softly to the dragonfly, my voice catching. "Sebastian... he remembers everything. All the little details, the stories you used to tell us. He chose that spot for the proposal because he knew how much it meant to me. To us."
The dragonfly's wings twitched, and I laughed softly, wiping away tears I hadn't realized I was crying. "I know, I know. You always said he was special. 'That boy sees the world with his heart', you'd tell me. I didn't understand then, but I do now."
I heard Sebastian inside in the kitchen, probably attempting to make his famous disaster pancakes for dinner. The thought made me smile—some things never changed. And some things…
I held up my hand and watched the ring sparkle. "We're building something beautiful, Dad. Something true. Not like..." I trailed off, thinking of company boardrooms and betrayals, of choices made in darkness. "We're doing it our way. The right way."
The dragonfly took flight, circling once around my head before darting toward the lavender fields. I touched my locket, feeling the familiar etched pattern beneath my fingers.
"I miss you," I whispered. "I wish you could be here for the wedding. But somehow"—I watched the dragonfly disappear into the purple haze of twilight—"somehow I think you will be."
"Max?" Sebastian's voice drifted out from the kitchen, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a falling pan. "Uh, don't worry, everything's fine! But if you wanted to help with these pancakes..."
I laughed, shaking my head as I stood. "Coming! Try not to burn down our future home before the wedding!"
"No promises!" he called back, and I could hear the grin in his voice.
As I headed inside, I paused for one last look at the sunset. The dragonfly might be gone, but its message lingered—about love and legacy, about building something new from the foundations of the past. About choosing light over darkness, truth over convenience.
Dad would have loved this moment. Would have loved seeing us choose our own path and create our own story. And maybe, just maybe, he sent that dragonfly to let me know he already did.
"Sebastian James!" I called out, hearing another clatter. "Those better not be my grandmother's mixing bowls!"
"They're not!" A pause. "Probably!"
With a laugh, I stepped inside to rescue my fiancé from his culinary adventures. The ring caught the kitchen light, sending sparkles dancing across the walls, and my heart felt full enough to burst. This is what Dad always wanted for me—not just love but partnership. Joy. Purpose.
And, as Sebastian pulled me into a flour-dusted embrace, I knew we'd found it all.