Epilogue
Six Months Later
Rosalie lies on my couch, her feet in my lap. She reads her book and I read mine. It’s called the perfect evening.
A small hum escapes her, and I glance over from my page. She’s more interesting anyway.
“Do you remember when we drove five hundred miles in one weekend—up the California coast and back? Just the two of us.”
I stare at her. Is she kidding? Did she really just ask that?
I wrap one hand around her ankle and gently squeeze. It’s enough to get her to look at me. “I remember. Do you?”
Her eyes widen. “No. Duh.”
“Then—”
“Fran told me,” she says. “Would you hate doing that again? I want to do that.”
I hold out a hand toward her, and when she slips her fingers into mine, I pull her up and into my lap. “Of course I wouldn’t hate doing that again. I’d love it.” I peck her lips and wait for her to tell me more.
“I’m just not sure when we can go.” She sighs. “I can’t wait to watch you play this weekend.”
“Yeah,” I say, unable to keep the anxiousness from my tone. “First game back.”
“It’s going to be great. You’re fantastic.”
“Says the woman who has no memory of watching me play.” I brush my fingers over the bottom of her bare feet.
She squirms, her legs pulling in at the knees. “Hey!” She laughs. “There are some things a girl just knows.” She rests her legs back down and sighs. “When will your schedule let up?”
“I’ll have a weekend open in a couple weeks. Could you take a day off school? I know state testing is coming up. All those Tesoro third graders need to be ready.”
“Oh, they’re ready. That sounds perfect.
” She falls back so that she’s lying down once more.
“I think that would be a wonderful time for you to propose.” She lifts her eyes from the upside-down novel in her hands.
“Unless you want me to propose this time. I know you said that I made you ask a few times before… It is probably my turn.”
Probably her turn? My mouth is slack and my brows cinched. I keep waiting for her to laugh at the joke or to wake me.
“What do you think?” she says, blue eyes glancing up from the book she isn’t reading.
I reach for her wrist and tug her back up. “Did you just say that you’d like to propose to me?”
“I said it might be my turn. If you want to do it—”
I wrap one arm around her back, pulling her closer. “Oh, it’s definitely your turn.
Rosalie giggles. “I thought it might be.”
“Prove it,” I say, securing my hold on her by wrapping my other arm about her waist. She isn’t going anywhere.
“Right now? Here?”
“The present’s as good as any.” My eyes roam over her face, and my head tries to convince me that it isn’t a dream. I squeeze her a little tighter and she grunts—yep, I am awake, not dreaming.
She tilts her head. “Okay. But you aren’t King Kong and I’m not the damsel in distress. So—”
“Sure,” I say, loosening my hold by a degree.
She smirks. “Perfect.” She breathes in, then out, her chest rising and falling with the action.
“Okay, then.” Rose leans in, her nose brushing my cheek before she presses one gentle kiss to my lips.
Her fingers thread through my hair, and then she pulls back one inch, her eyes on mine.
“Will you…” Another peck. “Zevulun Hayes…” A third teasing kiss.
“Like to get matching tattoos this weekend?”
“Rose—”
Sighing, she grins. “Fine. Marry me, Zev?”
I beam like a goof. It cannot be helped. And while I should tease her back or make her wait for an answer, or make her guess… I can’t. Instead, my lips are back on hers, kissing her thoroughly, coming up for air only once to whisper, “I thought you’d never ask.”