Chapter 57
Jack
Day One of the Rest of Forever
“You know I’m never going to stop,” she says reflexively.
She looks stunning. No, that’s not good enough actually.
In the glow of the candlelight, her wild auburn curls look almost molten, her freckles still prominent long after the summer sun has gone.
Her emerald eyes are so wide and so beautiful, I think I could happily dive into them and never come back up for air.
She looks fucking ethereal.
“What are you doing?” she asks again in a whisper when she finally slides onto the leather bench across from me. “Are you trying to burn the diner down? What kind of fireman are you?”
“They run on batteries, I borrowed them from Ellie. I can’t believe you’d ever doubt my fire-safety skills.”
“Is there even a party?” she accuses. “Was that just a ruse to get me to look presentable for once?”
“You’re a goddamn knockout twenty-four seven, Abby Thompson. But no, there’s no party. Ellie told me you'd want to be dressed up for this, and it seemed like the perfect ruse.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere. But seriously, what is going on here? Dressed up for what?”
“Halloween always seems to be a milestone for us," I say, ignoring her question. "Because of you, it’s become one of my favorite nights of the year. I couldn’t think of a better night to do it,” I continue softly.
"But I wanted to wait to do this until it was just us,” I add, reaching for her hand across the table.
"And what better place to do it than your favorite place in Larkspur? "
“To do what?” she asks again, her voice barely above a whisper.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the small velvet box that’s been tucked into my work bag for the last month.
I set it on the table between us, slowly lifting the lid to reveal an emerald cut diamond atop a simple silver band.
Her breath hitches, and I try to keep my hands from trembling as I continue.
“Abby, my life started the first time you came down those stairs into Griffin’s basement when we were fifteen years old,” I say.
“I’ve had the privilege of being your partner in everything from knocking some sense into Ellie and Griffin to furniture assembly, and I've had the honor of being your friend, and Aaron’s.
” I swallow hard at the mention of my friend, whose loss never gets any easier.
“And I know he was the love of your life,” I continue. “Nothing will ever change that, and I’d never dream of trying. But I think sometimes we’re lucky enough to have more than one love in a lifetime. I know I am.”
She looks up at me questioningly, but doesn’t interrupt.
“Somewhere along the way, I realized that you’re the love of my life, pretty girl.
And I thought that would be it for me. But then another pretty girl wrapped me around her finger, and I knew that one love wouldn’t be nearly enough.
I knew I was undeniably, wholeheartedly gone for the both of you.
I’d rip my heart right out of my chest and give it to you if you asked me to.
And I’d do it with a smile on my face. I’d do anything either of you ask of me, without question. ”
“Oh Jack,” she whispers, delicately bringing her fingers to her mouth.
“I know there's still a lot to work out here. I know this is still relatively new. I don't know what the future holds, but I know I want to grow old with you. You don’t just have my heart, Abby, you have everything. You and Erin both. And if you’ll let me, I’ll keep giving you everything I have for as long as you want. For forever, if you’ll have me.”
She gasps softly as I slip out of my seat and kneel in front of her, taking her hand back in mine.
“Will you marry me, Abigail Wheeler Thompson?”
Instead of answering, she leans forward, close enough for our noses to touch.
“I think you’re right,” she murmurs, the wetness of her eyelashes mingling with mine. “I think that if we’re lucky, we do have more than one love in a lifetime.”
She brings her hands to my jaw, staring fiercely into my eyes before she presses her mouth to mine. “And I think I might be the luckiest girl in the world.”
I laugh shakily, covering her hand where it still rests on my cheek. “Is that a yes, then?”
“Of course it’s a yes,” she says in the exasperated tone I love so much. “But no amount of beautiful, heartfelt declarations in the world will make me change your nickname.”
“I can live with that, pretty girl,” I say, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her in close, until there’s no gap between us. “You can call me whatever you want, as long as I get to call you mine.”