Chapter 51
PIPER
Christmas and the New Year passed, and so did the six-month mark of this marriage that brought me my inheritance.
I bought the bakery from Jeanette, she retired, and now I’m the free-and-clear owner of my dream business.
Speaking of Christmas, I stop as I pass the mantle place where we’ve put a framed picture of the Christmas cards we sent out to friends and family.
A tiny laugh comes to my throat as I smile at it. Hallie took a portrait of me, Nash, and Cheesecake posing together in front of the house like we’re a real family.
I guess we are, just a highly unconventional one. A fake-married couple who ended up falling in love for real, and their not-quite-pet capybara who comes and goes according to her own whim.
Not the life I imagined living, but there’s nothing I’d trade it for.
It’s been a couple months since I got my money.
For all intents and purposes, Nash and I don’t have to be married anymore.
But we’re staying together. I’m more in love than I’ve ever been, and my relationship with Nash is perfect.
It’s just … weird that it’s still technically a marriage that started as a lie.
Do we just turn to each other one day and ask if we want to … stay married? Would that be the equivalent of getting married for real, in our circumstances? Should we plan a vow renewal ceremony sometime and consider that our real wedding, between the two of us?
Fuck if I know.
I huff another laugh and tilt my shoulder. Maybe this clusterfuck is just part of the charm of my and Nash’s relationship. I’ll embrace the chaos.
Chaotic is exactly what it’s been in both our lives lately. The hockey season is intensifying with playoffs looming, and Nash has been insanely busy. So have I, working on expanding the bakery and getting used to being an owner.
We have a relatively relaxed couple days ahead of us, though.
Nash has one home game the day after tomorrow and then an unusual number of days off.
The bakery is closed while we’re adding new seating space.
I’ll just drop in now and then to check in on the construction, but I won’t have a full day’s work to do until it’s done.
Nash walks out of our bedroom, pulling on one of his checkered shirts and rolling up the sleeves. He jingles his keys in his hand. “Let’s go for a drive.”
There’s a knowing spark of excitement in his eyes that makes my stomach swoop with anticipation. I can tell he’s got something planned.
We hop into his truck, and a little while later, we’re pulling up at the side of a road we both know very well.
“What are we doing here?” I ask. This is the road that Nash picked me up on all those months ago, after I smashed up Crew’s phone and stomped out of the limo.
Nash opens his door and steps out. I join him, underneath the bright sun and stark blue sky.
“This is it,” he says, stepping from the shoulder of the road onto the sparse grass covering the dirt. “This is the exact spot.”
“Where you picked me up?” I grin. “Yeah, I remember the road.”
“This is the exact spot. Right here. This is exactly where I stopped and told you to get into my truck.”
My brows draw low. I smile, feeling skeptical. “This is the exact spot?” I look up and down the long road. The entire shoulder is identical. “How could you possibly tell?”
“Right there.” Nash points at something on the ground, about three feet away from the shoulder of the road.
I walk over and see that it’s a strangely shaped rock, painted a bright blue and stuck into the ground like someone intentionally planted it there.
“It was the end of summer when I picked you up right here. When the light from the cabin spilled out of the open door, when I was arguing with you to get you to hop in, it illuminated a little cluster of flowers that were growing right there at the time. I noticed. I remembered exactly what they looked like, exactly what colors they were.”
Nash steps toward me. There’s so much affection beaming in his eyes, my heart swoops.
“I drove this road every excuse I could get,” he continues. “I was always able to spot that little cluster of flowers. It always made me think of that night. Always made me smile.”
I’m smiling, too, a pressure of emotions swelling behind my eyes.
“One day, I noticed the flowers were starting to wilt. I didn’t want to forget exactly where this spot was. So, I got a rock, painted it blue, and planted it here as a landmark. The flowers used to be right behind it.”
Nash puts his hands to my waist, holding me.
“I never wanted to forget the exact spot you got into my truck for the first time, and back into my life for the last time. Because I don’t ever want you to get out of it again.”
An intense feeling of expectation laces through the air. It’s like that feeling you get sometimes before a storm, when you can sense it coming. But the feeling is the exact opposite of ominous. It feels like something incredible is about to happen, but I don’t know what, or how.
Then Nash lets his hands drop from my sides. He takes a step back. And gets down on one knee.
A warm buzz swims through me when he reaches for my hand.
“Piper, will you divorce me? And then marry me again, for real this time?”
I’m almost choked with happiness, but not enough to keep a laugh from bursting through. “That has to be the most fucked up way anyone’s ever been proposed to.”
Sheer joy is blooming in Nash’s eyes. “No, I’m pretty sure our first one was worse.”
I’m laughing. Tears cloud my eyes as I try to blink them back.
“Well, don’t keep me waiting,” Nash prompts, even though I think he’d wait all day and night on his knees for me.
“Of course, you idiot! Get up here!”
I tug at his hand to bring him to his feet, and when he is, he pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off the ground as his lips press to mine.
“I’m still keeping my name,” I say, smiling against his lips.
“Baby, I don’t want anything about you or about us to change. The only thing I want different is that when I say I do, I want to mean it.”
I kiss him again. I run my hand across his cheek, loving the masculine scrape of his stubble against my palm. It makes me want to feel more of him. All of him.
"How reckless is it that I’m imagining laying that blanket out in the bed of your truck again?” I whisper into his ear.
I feel him growing against me. He groans. “In broad fucking daylight? Really damn reckless. But don’t tempt me.”
“How about just driving a little over the speed limit to get us home as soon as possible?”
Nash grins. “Now that, I can do.”
Back home, we wear ourselves out in bed and fall into a tangled mess of limbs and heaving chests. I’m drifting to sleep, head against Nash’s sweat-slicked chest, when it really hits home that this is the rest of our lives.
I couldn’t think of a better one, even if I wanted to.