33. Scarlett
— ? —
Scarlett
The old foreman’s house looks different in the morning light.
Beck has cleaned it. That’s the first thing I notice when I push open the door.
The dust is gone, the floors have been swept, the windows have been washed until they sparkle.
The kitchen table is still there, the same one where he took me apart the night before our first wedding, but now there’s something on it.
A mason jar that’s empty.
“Wrong season,” Beck says from behind me. “For bluebonnets.”
I turn around. He’s standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the morning sun, and he looks nervous. Beck Cooper, who faces down senators and closes million-dollar deals without blinking, looks like he might throw up.
“What is this?”
“The jar’s empty because I’m not allowed to buy them.” He steps into the room, and I see his hands are shaking. “And it turns out you can’t buy bluebonnets anyway, not this time of year. So the jar is empty, but I wanted you to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“The night before. When I brought you here and promised you the barns would be yours and that we’d turn this house into something that’s only ours.” He stops in front of me. “I broke that promise. I broke a lot of promises. And I can’t fill this jar with flowers to at least be romantic, but I can-”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring.
My ring. The one I left on the kitchen counter the night I walked out. The diamond catches the light, throwing little rainbows across the walls.
“The papers say I’m not your husband anymore,” he says.
“And I’m done calling you my wife until I’ve earned it.
” He drops to one knee, right there on the floor he swept with his own hands, in the room where everything started.
“Marry me again, Scarlett. Let me earn it. Let me spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you.”
I can’t breathe. I’m just standing here, looking at this man on his knees, holding a ring that represents everything we lost and everything we might find again.
“Beck-”
The door bursts open.
“DADA!”
Josie comes barreling into the room like a tiny tornado, Lucy, who came with me, is right behind her with an apologetic expression. Josie launches herself at Beck, who’s still on one knee, and the impact sends them both tumbling into the dust.
“DADA DOWN!” Josie shrieks with delight, climbing on top of him. “Dada down down down!”
“Daddy’s extremely down,” Beck says from the floor, Josie bouncing on his chest. “Scarlett, little help?”
I’m laughing. I can’t stop laughing, at the absurdity of it, at Josie’s timing, at Beck lying in the dirt in his nice clothes with a toddler using him as a trampoline.
“Sorry,” Lucy says, not looking sorry at all. “She saw the truck and took off running.”
“It’s fine.” I crouch down next to them. “Beck was just asking me something.”
“Was he?” Lucy’s eyes are bright. “What was he asking?”
“Mama!” Josie reaches for me, and I pull her off Beck’s chest. “Dada fall!”
“Daddy fell,” I agree. “Daddy’s very clumsy.”
Beck sits up, brushing dust off his shirt. His hair is a mess, there’s dirt on his cheek, and he’s still holding the ring.
“So?” he says. “Is that a yes?”
“You’re covered in dirt.”
“I’m aware.”
“And our daughter just tackled you.”
“Also aware.”
“And you’re proposing in a house that doesn’t have running water.”
“I cleaned it myself.” He grins up at me, and despite everything, the dirt, the chaos, the complete destruction of whatever romantic moment he’d planned, he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. “Is that a yes or not?”
I look at the ring. At the empty mason jar on the table. At my daughter in my arms and my almost-husband on the floor.
“Yes,” I say. “You idiot. It’s always been yes.”
Lucy whoops and lifts her phone, and the flash goes off before I can turn my head. Beck on the ground, Josie shrieking, me crying and laughing at the same time. The picture that ends up on my nightstand for the rest of my life.
Beck surges to his feet and kisses me so hard I nearly drop our daughter.
“I love you,” he says against my mouth. “I love you, I love you-”
“I know.” I’m crying, laughing, both at once. “I know, Beck. I love you too.”
Lucy takes Josie from my arms. “I’m going to give you two a minute,” she says, already heading for the door. “Or twenty. Take your time.”
The door closes behind her. And then it’s just us, in the house where it all began, with a ring and an empty jar and the rest of our lives stretching out ahead.
“I can’t believe Josie tackled you,” I say.
“I can’t believe you said yes.”
“Why wouldn’t I say yes?”
“Because I don’t deserve you.” He cups my face in his hands. “I’ve never deserved you. But I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”
“That’s all I ever wanted.”
“I know.” He kisses me again, softer this time. “I finally know.”