Epilogue
HEATHER
“Where are we going?” I ask Dean as he takes left turn instead of a right. “Nana’s house is that way.”
“I know where it is,” Dean says, looking over at me with that casual smile he wears so often now.
Had I not witnessed it on the daily these past few months, I wouldn’t have believed it possible.
Though he’s still plenty grumpy—which secretly turns me on—he seems happier than I’ve ever known him to be.
“As fun as a detour sounds right now, we can’t be late to your couch burning party.”
“This won’t take long,” he says, laughing when I shoot him an annoyed glare. At a stop sign, he looks over and asks, “Do you trust me?”
“Dumb question.”
“That’s not an answer, sweetheart.”
“Of course I trust you.”
He reaches his hand across the center console, flattening it against my thigh. “I’ll get us to the party with time to spare.”
Two blocks later, Dean pulls into the driveway of a two-story house with pillars and large windows, parking alongside a blue SUV.
“Do we know these people or something?” I ask.
He leans across the center console, cupping my cheek before he kisses me. “Come on.”
I follow him to the front porch, annoyed that he won’t tell me what this is about. But before I can press him again, the front door opens. A woman about my mom’s age in a pencil skirt and silk blouse answers the door.
“You made it,” she says, her smile radiant. “This must be the lucky woman.”
“Heather,” Dean says.
“I’m Jillian Reynolds.”
“Not to be rude, but is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“She’s our real estate agent.”
I snap my head to Dean. “Since when?”
“Since this house came on the market,” he explains, guiding me inside with his hand on my lower back.
“What’s so special about this house?”
“Should we just go upstairs now?” Jillian asks Dean.
He looks at me, as though deciding how long he wants to torture me. We’ve talked about buying a house someday. But that can’t be why we’re here. This house, though incredibly beautiful, is way out of any price range we could consider.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” I insist.
“Let me show you the upstairs, and then I’ll explain everything,” Dean says.
“You better.”
With Dean at my back, I follow Jillian up the grandest staircase I’ve ever seen in a house, to a room at the back of the house. I gasp at the insane natural lighting and floor to ceiling windows on the back-facing wall. There’s a screened-in balcony that overlooks the backyard.
“That’s state protected land,” Jillian says of the trees at the far end of the property line. “That means, no one will ever build there.”
“I’m in love with this room,” I say, looking at Dean, but I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“How would you feel about making this your map making room?” Dean asks.
“Don’t tease me about that,” I say. We’ve had countless conversations about my dream room. One where I can draw maps on charcoal, print out digital maps to sell online, and bookshelves to show off all the books that contain maps I’ve drawn.
“I’ll have to add built-in’s,” Dean says. “And I could build you a design space right in the middle so you can take the commissions for those giant maps when you want to. The balcony’s even screened in so you can sit outside with Aries and not get eaten by bugs while you draw.”
My heart melts at how incredibly thoughtful this man is. I know now why it never worked out with anyone else. All my life, I was meant to be here, with Dean Walker. But that still doesn’t make this make any more sense.
“What’s the catch?”
Dean looks at Jillian, and she slips out of the room to take a call. Never mind that I didn’t hear her phone ring.
“It’s a little on the expensive end,” Dean admits. “But Nana actually offered us the down payment as a…wedding gift.”
“We’re getting married?” I laugh, because as much as we’ve talked about the future, Dean has never once mentioned getting married, much less asked me to marry him.
Considering my last proposal ended up a man getting arrested, I haven’t been too concerned about marrying Dean.
I know in my heart we’ll be together to the end, wedding or not.
But apparently Nana has other ideas.
“So you’re just going to marry me so you can give me my dream map studio?”
“Something like that.”
“What about you?” I ask, tearing up. Never mind that he hasn’t officially asked me to be his wife yet. “What do you get out of this?”
“Seeing you happy.”
The tears I was fighting fall without abandon, because how is this man real? How did this grumpy pain in my ass end up being the sweetest, most thoughtful man in existence?
“So what do you say, Heather? Will you marry me?”
“You already know the answer to that,” I tease.
“Just say the words,” he says, his tone a little exasperated.
“Of course I’ll marry you.”
He scoops me into his arms, kissing me so thoroughly I forget where we are. I forget that we’re probably running late to Nana’s party. Hell, I forget my own name. When he finally lets me come up for air, I’m more than a bit dazed. He is too.
“So are we putting in an offer?” Jillian asks, poking her back in the room.
“Yes,” Dean and I say at the same time.
“Great! I’ll get the paperwork started.”
Dean presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. “I can’t wait to marry you.”