Chapter 45
The smell of roasted garlic and seared steak fills the air, thick and warm, wafting around the laughter that feels too rare in this house. It’s been a long time since this patio table saw anything other than takeout cartons. Until tonight. Tonight is different.
Reese sits on my left, wearing that pale green sweater I love.
It brings out the bright emerald of her eyes and hugs her curves in all the right places.
Her hand keeps brushing mine, fingers grazing my knuckles like she can’t quite keep her hand from me.
The emerald catches the light each time, and I can’t stop looking at it.
For ten years, I held onto that ring. Ten years I told myself it was foolish, sentimental, and outright pathetic.
Turns out it was none of those things. It was inevitable.
Gunnar is returning from the kitchen with his second beer when Abby’s eyes land on Reese’s hand. I can practically hear the gears turning. Her gaze flicks from the ring to me, to Reese, then back again.
“Oh, my God…” Her voice rises an octave as she slaps the table. “Are you—? Is that—?”
Reese looks at her, then at me. Her lips curve in that quiet, reverent smile that kills me every damn time. “Yes,” she answers softly, eyes locking on mine. “Chris asked last night.”
The table erupts. Abby shrieks, Gunnar grins so wide I think his face might crack, and Damon actually stands to hug me, muttering something about “finally” under his breath. Even Jagger, the bastard, looks touched for all of five seconds before he hides it under a smirk.
“About damn time,” Gunnar says, clinking his beer bottle against mine. “I was starting to think you two were going to go another ten years.”
Reese laughs, cheeks flushed, and I pull her closer. Her ring glints in the low light again, and I swear my chest could burst from how right it looks.
Damon raises his glass. “To Hawk and Reese. The most unlikely, terrifyingly perfect couple I’ve ever met.”
“To Hawk and Reese!” the table echoes, laughter spilling into the clink of glasses and the scrape of cutlery.
Gunnar leans forward after a while, still grinning. “So, when’s the big day?”
“Eventually,” Reese says at the same time I reply, “Soon.”
The patio falls silent, all eyes flitting between the two of us and the tension crackling between us.
Reese turns to me, brow arched. “Soon?”
“Uh oh,” Jagger mutters, pushing from his seat. “Hold on a sec, let me grab my popcorn.”
I shoot him a look, then turn back to Reese. “Baby,” I exhale with a small smile, “I should’ve done this ten years ago. Waiting another day to make you my wife is a day too many.”
She blinks and tilts her head, exclaiming, “Today?”
I laugh. “Not actually today. But I don’t want to wait.”
Her lips part, a mix of surprise and amusement. “There’s planning. Your parents… My mom… A dress.”
I reach for her hand, my thumb stroking over her ring. “We’ve both lived our lives ruled by calendars full of impossible missions and contingency plans. I think we can handle one wedding.”
Abby claps her hands together like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. “Oh, I could do this in my sleep. Seriously, Hawk, Reese, let me at it.”
I grin. “You sure? Because last time I trusted you to ‘plan something,’ we ended up in a desert convoy at three in the morning with an impending drone strike.”
“That was one time,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t have to worry about drones this time.”
“You sure you can handle this?” Damon teases. “You cry at those save-the-puppy commercials.”
Abby glares at him. “Shut up, Damon. I’m making this wedding happen. Next month. Easy.”
Reese turns sharply. “Next month?”
The whole table quiets again, but I don’t look away from Reese. The rest of the room might as well not exist. “Next month,” I repeat, my voice steady. “We can do it here, or wherever you want. Somewhere that feels like us.”
Reese studies me for a long moment, her gaze softening, a dozen emotions passing through it: shock, hesitation, love, and eventually surrender.
Then she exhales, almost smiling. “I guess we’re getting married next month.”
The whole table breaks into cheers and laughter, but I barely hear it. I stand, pulling her into my arms, and the second she’s there, it feels like everything else fades away. I press a soft kiss to her lips. She whispers against my mouth, “I would’ve married you today.”
My chest tightens as I smile against hers. “I know, baby.”
The conversation spins into a celebratory and planning blur. Gunnar opens another bottle of wine. Abby pulls out a notepad—because of course she has one—and starts rattling off color palettes and venues like she’s been prepping for this since birth.
“I’m thinking something intimate,” she suggests, flipping a page. “Backyard lights, strings of lanterns, nothing too fussy.”
Damon leans back in his chair, smiling faintly. “You two’ve been through hell. You deserve something beautiful.”
Reese looks at him, eyes softening. “We all do.”
The mood in the air shifts, a quiet wave of understanding passing through the table. We’ve all lost people. We’ve all carried ghosts. But tonight, there’s something healing about being here. About seeing one of us get something good.
Reese’s hand slides onto my thigh under the table, a subtle touch. She leans in, whispering so only I can hear, “You know, part of me still feels like I’m dreaming.”
I turn my head toward her, the corners of my mouth curving in a slow smile. “Then I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me,” I whisper back. “Because I plan on making the rest of your life feel exactly like that.”
Abby interrupts by shoving her phone across the table. “Okay, hear me out. Early fall wedding—warm colors, simple ceremony, maybe a private property near the lake. I’ve got a contact who—”
Gunnar groans. “You just found out and you already have a venue?”
“I move fast,” Abby says proudly.
“I’ve heard that about you,” Jagger teases with an over-exaggerated wink.
Abby’s brows lift, a slow smirk tugging at her mouth as she leans back in her seat. “Careful, Jagger. I don’t take insults from self-proclaimed playboys with commitment issues who are as well-read as the back of a shampoo bottle.”
Gunnar nearly chokes on his drink, laughing. “Damn.”
Jagger slaps a hand over his heart in mock offense. “That’s harsh. I’m more of a conditioner guy, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Abby fires back. “Probably the leave-in kind. Works while you sleep around.”
Jagger grins, eyes glinting. “You jealous, Abby?”
“Of what?” she scoffs. “Your revolving door of bad decisions?”
He leans in, his voice low and teasing. “You’d remember me if you were one of them.”
Abby meets his gaze without blinking. “Sweetheart, that’s because herpes is forever.”
The table erupts in laughter. Jagger shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re mean.”
“And you’re lucky I’m choosing to stay seated,” she shoots back.
He smirks, raising his glass toward her. “Keep talking like that, and—”
“Keep dreaming,” Abby interrupts, raising her glass with a wicked grin. “You couldn’t handle me on your best day.”
By the time dessert hits the table—some kind of chocolate torte Abby brought—the laughter’s easy and the tension is gone.
Reese returns from grabbing another bottle of wine. She sits beside me, sliding her fingers through mine.
“You good?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “I think I’m perfect, actually.” Her thumb brushes the back of my hand.
The evening fades into late-night drinks and scattered laughter. One by one, my family drifts out. Abby is the last to leave, hugging Reese so tightly she nearly lifts her off the ground.
“I’m so happy for you,” she shares with a huge smile. “And I mean that, Reese. You deserve this. You both do.”
Reese grins, eyes shining. “Thank you, Abbs.”
When the door closes behind her, the house is finally quiet. Reese turns toward me, barefoot, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. There’s something new in her expression; certainty, maybe, peace, definitely.
“So,” she says softly. “Next month?”
I nod. “Next month.”
She steps closer, hands sliding up my chest, fingers curling against my shirt. “Guess I should start looking for a dress.”
I cup her jaw, thumb brushing her bottom lip. “Tomorrow. I plan to be thinking about you without clothes for the rest of the night.”
Her lips curve. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m in love,” I correct quietly, gathering the hem of her sweater in my hands. “Let me show you how deeply.”