Epilogue #2
“Drink that so you’re not miserable in the morning,” I told her, handing over a couple of painkillers.
She gave me a thoughtful look. “This is like déjà vu.”
“A little,” I replied.
“I’m not puking this time.”
“Luckily.”
“I am in an unfamiliar bed, though.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But you didn’t steal my samosas this time.”
Bonnie gasped and placed the water on the bedside table. “I did not.”
“Oh, you definitely did. And you ate all my pakora. I had my takeout sitting on the bar, and I only turned my back on you for a minute, but it was long enough.”
She covered her face with her hands and mumbled between her fingers, “I couldn’t figure out why I was craving Indian food the next day. I always wondered what happened that night. You never really told me.”
I folded back the covers and encouraged her to wiggle underneath. Then I lay down beside her.
“That was the beginning of the rest of our lives,” I said simply.
She rolled over to face me, a soft, sleepy smile on her pretty face.
Something warm moved through my chest.
“I’ll always be grateful you came to Magnolia that night instead of going to Mattie B’s,” I confessed.
“Even though I’m a troublemaking local?” she asked with a grin.
“Yep.” I laced my fingers with hers in the narrow space between us. “You’re the best trouble of my whole life. And I’m kind of an expert on the subject.”
Her hand tightened around mine. “Not anymore. Now you’re a respected business owner. A beloved neighbor and friend. An award-winning soccer coach. A dedicated grandson. A sexy woodworker. A rabbit dad. And”—she paused dramatically—“the love of my life.”
The ring was still in my pocket. I could feel it digging into my thigh beneath the blankets. Her sweet words had my fingers eager to pull it free.
Tonight hadn’t gone as planned, but I could still ask. Suddenly, I didn’t want to wait for the perfect moment. Who needed perfection when there were moments like this? When my heart felt too big for my chest, and everything I never knew I wanted was close enough to touch.
But in the time it took me to wiggle the box out of the pocket containing it, Bonnie’s eyes drooped. Two slow blinks later, and she was out.
I sighed, but I could feel the smile on my face.
There would be more opportunities. Our lives were filled with them.
In fact, my life was much bigger these days—fuller than it had ever been. There were more people in it, and strangely enough, I liked it that way.
I pressed a kiss to Bonnie’s forehead. Then I turned out the light.
Sleep would find me soon enough, but I knew my dreams couldn’t possibly compare to the life I had with the woman by my side.
Bonnie
I blinked awake in an unfamiliar bedroom. In the dim gray morning light, I found Jack by my side and breathed a little sigh of relief.
He was shirtless, his dark hair pulled back while he slept, a few strands loose around his neck and temple. I liked the way he looked in our bed.
Our bed.
The room had turned out beautifully. I couldn’t believe Jack had sneaky-moved all the furniture in and had the bed delivered. Over the windows were the curtains I’d picked out, and I knew if I walked into the new bathroom, I’d find the fuzzy navy-blue bathmat I’d ordered.
Jack had been supportive throughout the whole design process for the remodel.
We’d talked through options, and nine times out of ten, he’d agreed with whatever I wanted.
I’d felt a little guilty until we’d had a long talk about what made us happy.
Jack had promised that seeing me get the house of my dreams was what he wanted more than anything.
I still had moments where I feared disappointing him, but they were few and far between these days.
I tiptoed out of bed to use the bathroom down the hall. I didn’t want to wake Jack.
Curious about how the kitchen had turned out, I peeked into the room. My attention snagged on the kitchen table—the one Jack had designed and built this spring. I stepped closer and noted the flowers and the candles and the surface laid so beautifully with the good dishes and linen napkins.
Jack had planned dinner for us, and I’d ruined it.
My fingers trailed across the smooth surface of the dark wood as regret and remorse claimed me.
On bare feet, I opened the door to the refrigerator.
It wasn’t stocked because we hadn’t been living here.
But on the middle shelf was a lasagna ready and waiting.
There was also garlic bread and a bowl of salad wrapped up in cling film.
I bit my lip, miserable over what I’d messed up last night.
We’d been trying to cheer Joan up, and things had gotten a little out of hand, but that was no excuse. Jack had clearly planned a lovely meal for our first night back in the house.
And I’d gotten day drunk on mimosas with my friends. Then fell asleep.
I scanned the room, wondering how I could fix this, and my attention caught on something I’d missed initially.
The chandelier over the kitchen island was not the one I’d picked out—not the one we’d agreed on with the contractor.
I took in the clusters of delicate crystals and the way they layered and wove between each other in such a lovely, organic configuration.
I’d recognize the fixture anywhere. It was the really expensive and extravagant chandelier I’d saved on my Pinterest wish list, not the more modest and reasonable one I’d shown Jack and settled on with the contractor.
Jack had done this for me. He was always doing things for me. In the last six months, he’d made me a priority in a million different ways. And he never stopped asking what I needed.
I swallowed down the emotion tightening my throat and padded quietly down the hall.
When I slid back into bed, Jack’s hazel eyes slowly blinked open.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, dark brows drawing together.
“I’m sorry,” I practically wailed and wrapped myself around him. “I feel awful that I ruined your plans last night.”
He stiffened in my hold, muscles going briefly taut before he asked roughly, “My plans?”
“The dinner you made and the beautiful table you set. Our first night together in the house.” I squeezed him even tighter. “I messed it all up, and I’m so sorry.”
Jack relaxed and released a slow breath. His hands rubbed soothing circles on my back. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t know that I was trying to surprise you.”
“I know, but—”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he insisted as he cupped my nape and squeezed gently. “We can have a do-over tonight if you want.”
I pulled back to look at him. “No, right now. I want lasagna for breakfast.”
His lips twitched. “You do?”
“Yes,” I replied eagerly. Then I tossed back the covers and hopped out of bed, renewed by the prospect of fixing what I’d broken.
I hurried into the kitchen and washed my hands. Then I tied on an apron I found hanging in the pantry and started pulling all the leftovers from last night out of the fridge.
The floorboards in the hallway creaked, and I knew Jack had followed me.
“You know, some foods are just good anytime,” I babbled as I reached over to preheat the fancy new oven.
“They shouldn’t be designated as time- or meal-specific.
You should be able to eat pasta for any meal.
And pizza obviously. A classic for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
Also pancakes. I’m a big fan of breakfast for dinner. ”
When I turned around to find Jack, I gasped and slapped a hand over my mouth.
Because he was there, directly behind me, shirtless and in black boxer briefs. He was also waiting on bended knee with a ring box in his hand.
“Oh my God,” I mumbled behind my palm.
“Sorry. I was impatient.” He watched me with that same calm, solemn expression that I’d associated with him from the beginning.
“Maybe it’s too soon for you. Maybe you need more time.
Maybe you don’t ever want to be someone’s wife again.
But I want to be your husband—your teammate.
Listening to you talk about marriage, I realized you were already all of those things to me.
My secret keeper. My best friend. My roommate.
My high-five giver. My partner. I want your loyalty and your heart.
And I want to give you mine right back. I want to fight for you and fight for us.
I want to be on your team for the rest of my life, Bonnie. ”
There were a number of appropriate reactions. Crying. Kissing. Shouting yes and throwing myself at him.
Instead, I blurted clumsily through the rising tide of my emotions, “It’s not too soon! I’d marry you tomorrow if you wanted. At the courthouse or on a cruise ship by a ship captain. Or in Vegas with Elvis officiating.”
Jack’s lips lifted in amusement. “Or at a big wedding on the farm with everyone we know?”
Tears threatened, making my nose sting. How did he always know exactly what I needed?
I managed a shaky nod and took a step closer. “That too. You name the time and place, and I’m your girl.”
He grinned. “You are.”
I cupped his cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to his lips as visions of the future unspooled before me.
Possibility. Hope. Love and devotion. Big moments.
And small moments too. Partners in practice, not just theory.
My coffee mug waiting on the counter in the mornings.
And moonlit rides on the back of a motorcycle, butter-soft leather surrounding me.
Someone who knew all my tender spots and protected them fiercely.
A life lived together, side by side, heart to heart.
Jack reached up and loosened my hold. He placed the white ring box in one of my hands and held the other, lacing our fingers together. He cleared his throat deliberately and said low and rough, “Bonnie, will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
I let myself get swept up in the moment as Jack pulled me into his arms.
It was wild to think we’d ended up here. The bad boy and the good girl.
But that was only a part of the story and just fragments of who we really were. It had taken time and space, circumstance and heartache to bring us together. Not a perfect moment, but a handful of ordinary ones in every shape and size.
As our love grew and changed, so did we. And now we were exactly where we belonged . . . right here. Jack and me. Forever.