Epilogue
Cruz
a few months later…
I’m pretty sure that the women at Sugar Bakers think I’m a complete lunatic. But I’m okay with that.
I told Juliette I’d be a little late coming home tonight, so hopefully she’s there waiting. We don’t officially live together, but she is at my little cabin more often than not.
We found a house we both love, and I heard from the realtor today that they accepted my bid. So I get to tell her the good news.
When I pull my mustang up in front of my cabin, I smile when I catch sight of her car. She’s probably inside, crashed out on the couch.
I grab my box from the bakery and head to my front door. But before I can open it, she comes rushing out with a pot in hand. Smoke billows from the pot and something that I don’t recognize is melted to the sides and bottom of the cookware.
“Dammit, you’re home,” she says.
“Just how every man likes to be greeted by the love of his life,” I say.
“I tried to make dinner.”
I nod. “Is it too soon for me to ask what it was supposed to be?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, it is. Also, the cabin is smoky. I opened the windows as best I could.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
“I wanted to cook for you,” she says, her lips in a little pout.
“I don’t need you to cook for me. I’m Mexican, baby, I’m a great cook.”
She sniffs. “You are.”
“And you have other skills.” I waggle my eyebrows at her.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t think blow jobs,” she whispers that last part, “is relevant.”
“Pretty damn relevant to me.”
“What’s in the pink box?”
“Ah, you finally noticed.” I lead her over to the single chair I have on the tiny cabin porch. “Sit down, Valkyrie.”
She sits and I put the box on her lap.
“People might think that we don’t match, that we don’t go together, but I don’t care about any of that.” I open the box. “Because we go together like frosting in a pie crust.”
She looks down at the baked monstrosity in her lap, then starts laughing. “You are a lunatic.”
“Probably. But I want to get this proposal right.”
Her blue eyes widen. “Are you proposing right now?”
“Yes.” I get down on my knees and then carefully pull off my shirt. There’s plastic wrap clinging to the new ink on my chest. Words right there over my heart.
“That’s gonna itch something terrible when that chest hair grows back,” she says.
“You’re worth it,” I tell her.
She leans forward to read the words now inked into my skin. Then she looks up at me, tears swim in her eyes.
“Did you actually get the chorus to Love Story tattooed on your chest?”
“I did. Taylor Swift version, right? Not Shakespeare. That’s us.”
That earns me a huge smile. “Yeah, Romeo, that’s us.”
I pull the ring out of my pocket and hold it up to her. “Marry me?”
“YES!” She leans forward to kiss me, and the frosting pie sort of squishes between us.
“Oh, and we got the house.”
“I love you,” she says.
“Yeah, Juliette, I love you too.”
***
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