Spencer
SPENCER
ONE YEAR LATER
“, did you send me the list of contestants for the cocktail contest?” Eleanor asks, poking her head up over the wall of my cubicle. Below her are pictures I’ve hung on the half-wall that forms my workspace. Some of them are of Grady and me, others are of me with Ally and Hazel. In all of them I’m smiling bigger than I ever have. I’ve smiled a lot this last year, and I have deeper crow’s feet to show for it. I love it.
“Should be in your inbox right”—I click the enter button on my keyboard with a dramatic flair—“now.”
“Love it.” Eleanor gives me a thumbs up. “I can’t believe how many more people signed up this year.”
“It’s an incredible turnout. I just hope there’s enough space on the street,” I say. We decided that Jack’s wasn’t going to be enough space, nor could Finn manage making all the drinks, so the Second Annual Cocktail Contest has turned into a block party, each contestant responsible for making their own beverage. Ever since Eleanor hired me at the tourism board, I’ve been overseeing event planning, and this particular one makes me positively giddy. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s blown up into something none of us could have dreamed of, but I have a feeling it makes me the most excited because of the memories I have from last year.
Eleanor turns to head back into her office, and I start packing up my desk. I still marvel at the fact that I have my own desk at a stable job. Even more than that, every day I pack up my things and drive back to Grady’s house— our house. I feel like I need to pinch myself whenever I walk in the front door. Grady has given me free rein on decorating, and although he had turned it into a modern bachelor pad, I’ve added my own touches. Now, the place feels like the perfect mix of both of us.
A text lights up my phone screen as I’m about to drop it in my purse.
GRADY
Will you be home on time tonight? I have a special date night planned. Xo.
I type a quick reply, letting him know I’m on my way now, and hit send. Butterflies ripple through me. A year later, and I’m still not over going out on dates with Grady. Which is saying a lot for someone who used to adamantly refuse dates of any kind. But he makes every date feel special and spectacular, just by being him, and I’ll never get tired of it.
When I walk through the front door, Grady bounds down the stairs to greet me with the same energy as a golden retriever. That’s what I’ve come to love about him now. He loves with his whole being, he’s loyal and kind, and although sometimes he needs help getting what he needs, his heart is always in the right place. His heart beats for the people he loves.
“Is Mason here?” I ask. His old blue pickup truck was parked out front when I arrived. I love Mason, but not as a third wheel for our date.
“Nope. He lent me the truck for the evening. Part of the surprise I have for you,” Grady answers. I lift my eyebrows in intrigue.
“So mysterious tonight,” I coo.
“Are you ready? I thought we could just get going.” His energy, though endearing, is throwing me off. He’s practically buzzing around me.
“I was hoping to shower and freshen up first,” I say.
“Okay, sure. We can go whenever you’re ready.” Grady kisses my temple, his hand caressing the back of my head. “No rush.”
I never thought my love language would be having a man not rush me to get ready, but this is yet another thing I’ve learned from Grady, who gives it to me so freely.
He’s waiting for me on the couch in the living room when I emerge from the bathroom an hour later, hair freshly blown-out, and feeling like myself again after a long day of work. I can’t help but notice the way his knee is bouncing. He’s impatient for some reason.
He gets up and meets me in the middle of the warm, homey living room, and slides his arms around my waist.
“Hi,” he whispers. Dipping his forehead to rest it on mine.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
He sucks in an audible breath through his nose, pulling himself out of the moment.
“Let’s go,” he says, and I follow him out the front door and into Mason’s truck. I’m momentarily confused when Grady takes a left out of the driveway instead of the right turn that would take us into town. But as realization dawns on me as to where he’s taking me, I stifle the grin so as not to show that the surprise has been ruined.
As suspected, we wind our way up the mountainside and come to a stop at the lookout Grady brought me to, just over a year ago to the day. The day he showed me what Heartwood means to him. Coming here now, I have a different appreciation for the sleepy little town nestled in the valley. I’ve become intimately connected with this place and have no intention of leaving it.
“Give me a second,” Grady instructs as he hops out of the driver’s-side door and pulls off the tarp that was covering the bed of the truck. From the back window, I can tell that underneath it is an air mattress, pillows, blankets, and a picnic basket.
Before I can open my door, Grady is at the passenger side opening it for me and offering me his hand to get out.
“Grady, this is …” I don’t have the words. Special. Thoughtful. Sweet. All of the above. Just something that Grady would think to do.
He leads me around to the tailgate and helps me up into the makeshift bed.
“You remember the day that we came up here, that first day that we started working together?” he asks, climbing in behind me.
“Of course I remember. I remember every moment with you.” And it’s true. Every single thing that Grady has done for me, big or small, is branded on my heart, a beautiful love letter.
“Well, what I didn’t tell you is that part of the reason I love this spot so much is because it gives the perfect vantage point for stargazing.” Grady opens the picnic basket, pulling out everything for a charcuterie dinner and a bottle of wine. He pours me a glass, and we toast to the last year of us, Grady adding a lifetime of many more, and my heart clenches when I imagine all the years we have ahead of us. Our future doesn’t scare me the way it once did. Grady has shown me time and time again that I can let myself free fall, and he’ll be there to catch me.
I take the first sip of my wine, but he doesn’t, his gaze pinning me. His mouth twitches as he regards me.
“What, do I have something on my face?” I ask, bringing my hand in front of my mouth. “A big piece of food in my teeth? What is it?”
“I just love you,” he says, his voice full of awe and wonder and all the things I never thought I deserved to hear. “And I was just thinking about how my dad proposed to my mom here, decades ago.”
I wonder where he’s going with this train of thought, and my eyes search his face for an answer I already know in my heart. But I let him continue, afraid to speak and ruin the moment.
“They’re the real reason that I love Heartwood so much. I feel like since neither of them is around anymore, by caring for this place, I can honour them in some way, too. If it wasn’t for that, we wouldn’t have had a reason to start working together, and we very well could have gone on forever wondering what could have been. So, while this isn’t some wild romantic grand gesture, I want you to know that this means everything to me.”
I sniffle, and it’s the first moment that I realize I have tears in my eyes. I nod back at him, the lump in my throat preventing any words from escaping. Grady reaches into the inside pocket of his coat and pulls out a small, black velvet box. My eyes go wide when I see it, and Grady stammers a bit, most likely registering my expression as shock.
“I know that this is a big commitment.” He goes on, “And I know that in the past, commitment has been difficult for you. So, this can mean whatever you want it to mean. We don’t have to get married tomorrow. We don’t have to get married ever if you really don’t want to …”
I place a soft hand on his lips, shushing him, and I peer into his green-brown eyes.
“What do you want, Grady?” I ask him, my tone soft, and sincere. “Tell me what you want.”
The tension visibly releases from his shoulders, and he doesn’t skip a beat before he says, “I want to marry you. I wanted to marry you yesterday. I wanted to marry you the day I met you. I want to spend forever with you.”
“I wouldn’t want to spend forever any other way,” I answer, and Grady cups my face in his hands, pulling me in for a delicious, all-consuming kiss. His lips are soft against mine, yet somehow there’s more surety there too.
“We need some new rules,” I say when we pull away, my mouth twisting into a cheeky smirk. “Now that we’re making this official.”
“Absolutely not, Rebel. I’ve learned to put my foot down with you. No more rules. If you’re going to be my wife, I’m going to have you however I want.”I feel the muscles in my neck and shoulders relax. I’ve been waiting for the day when I can let go of my need for control, to hand over the reins. Grady is the only person who makes me feel safe enough to do just that.
“Okay, Landry.” My face softens as I let out a breath. “Fuck the rules.”