57. Anthony
fifty-seven
anthony
eight months later
The sand between my toes is a little chilly. There’s never a guarantee that Florida beaches are going to be warm in December. Three years ago, we got lucky. This year, we’re both bundled up—me in a pair of sweats, and her in my oversized sweatshirt that hangs down to her knees. It’s all good, though. Her hand in mine, coupled with the raging bees of my nerves, makes up for the warmth.
Penelope Jayne Barker has made me nervous many times throughout the forever we’ve been building. At one point, I was afraid I would never get the chance to make things up to her. Now that we’ve been able to repair the brokenness and really dig into the life we both never could’ve imagined for ourselves, I need to make it permanent.
What better place than the one where it all began?
It was no small feat to go to Rafe and the team to add Florida to her next book tour. This is her first book in a new series, so we’ve been spending our entire Christmas break flying around the country. It was easy enough to make Boston a two-day tour stop on the bookends of Christmas so that we could spend it in the home we’ve built together, but my ass is really looking forward to no longer being on a plane in a few short days.
That doesn’t take away from the immense pride I have for my girl.
Pen has been nothing short of amazing.
In the time that she has had to dedicate fully to her books, I have never seen her with more determination, more grit, and, okay, more agitation around her due dates. She settled into a routine pretty quickly, and has only really used the lock on the office door once—after she asked for help with the mechanics of a steamy scene, and then banned me from the room after declaring, “I’ve got it!” Let’s just say, I was about five seconds away from hammering down the door with my dick.
Right now, she’s ahead of her current deadline, allowing us to spend the entire holiday break just focusing on us—while she’s not doing book press. We’ve basically turned her tour into a bunch of different city dates—being tourists, ordering room service, and doing cannonballs into the hotel pools. Well. I’m doing cannonballs. She’s on the sidelines with her Kindle until I drag her in to play mermaids.
Florida was my surprise. I doctored up the schedule so that we have an entire day and evening here, and even made sure the hotel Rafe booked us in is right near our beach. She has to know something is up—we’ve talked rings and marriage and forever since she moved her last box into our home. I just needed the right backdrop.
As we squish along the sand, flip flops dangling from our fingertips, surrealness waves over me like a cloud of smoke. Three years ago, we stumbled onto this very beach after hopping a fence, looking over our shoulders like we thought security would come and get us. Now, the only security I need is right here in the palm of my hand. To steady me. To lift me. To love me in my faults—which I have plenty of.
“Are you cold, baby? I can give you back your sweatshirt?”
“Hmm?” I tilt my head down toward her.
“You’re shaking.”
Penelope dips her chin with a knowing smile, squeezes my hand, and lifts our hands between us as we walk. I tug our hands to my lips and kiss the back of hers.
“No. Keep my sweatshirt. They’re all on your half of the closet anyway.”
She giggles, making the velvet box in my pocket sing.
“Okay. We’re here.”
We stop at the scene of the crime. The same corner beach chair in a sea of others beneath the moonlight on the water’s edge. It takes her a moment to realize, but when she does, her free hand darts to her mouth, tears shining in her eyes.
She does that more. Lets herself cry. Lets her emotions be a little more transparent. Lets herself feel.
“Well… Are you cold?” I ask, the confidence in my voice suddenly vanished.
I settle into the chair and open my arms. She has no words, only nods furiously, both hands disappearing into the sleeves of my giant sweatshirt as she joins me on the chair, cuddling against my chest.
Just like that night. Only this time, there is no wondering if she can be mine. No fears about the future. The only obstacle in our way is my ability to choke out the question we both know she’ll say yes to.
We lay there in the silence for a few moments, letting the winking of the stars speak for us. The same constellations that peered down at us the first time in the December sky.
“This chair has seen some things,” she mumbles.
I laugh against the top of her head, scrubbing my hands slowly up and down her back.
“Sure has. Heard some things too.”
Pen pushes up from my chest with furrowed brows and a fight in her eyes.
“Anthony James, I told you we would never speak of the echoing!”
“It isn’t me you need to tell!” I guffaw. “Say something to the night crew who was hosing down the patio!”
Hitching my thumb behind me toward said resort patio, I watch Penelope deflate against my chest, grumbling in straight opposition to the way she cuddles against me.
“You know, the last time we were here, I thought I’d found my forever,” she says softly.
Thought once upon a time would’ve plagued me for decades, but I know now that there’s more to the story.
“I’m glad we had our time to sort things out though. I’m actually glad that we didn’t have our start after that night.”
“You are?” I ask.
“Mhm.” She nods, sliding her sleeved-covered hands up my chest. “We had so much to work out in ourselves. We wouldn’t have made it. We both needed the time in between to find ourselves before we could have our beginning together.”
I wind a hand up the single braid of her long red hair, cupping the back of her head, kissing the top of it.
“You know, the last time we were here, I lied to you.”
She huffs against my chest, then nuzzles her nose there.
“Of course you did. But we’re past that now?—”
“I know,” I whisper. “Let me finish the speech though, okay?”
She nods. Wraps both arms around my waist. Lets her knees fall to my hips to squeeze me there. Because I’m her anchor . The rest of my words come out as gritty as the sand that covers my feet.
“You asked me that night what I had waiting for me at home, and I said ‘work.’ I think, in the end though, I was exactly right. I had rubble to work through, my own issues to work out. We had a road of work ahead of us. And in the end, all of that work brought us to where we are right now.”
I sit up, bringing her with me. She sits on my lap, her knees straddled on either side of me, tears already welling in her big blue eyes. I tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear and kiss the bridge of her nose, knowing it will be the last time I do as something temporary.
“You said that the last time we were here, you thought you had found your forever. And I’m so glad, that we didn’t, Penelope Jayne. I’m so glad that we’ve been able to spend the last year learning from each other, building each other up, and getting to make ourselves whole while leaning on one another. I am so proud of what we’ve built together, through the hills and valleys of it all, and what we’ll build together for years to come.”
I cup her cheeks to swipe at the tears that she’s smiling through.
“I do have to get up for this next part, boss.”
“What if you stayed here, though?” she whispers.
“I wanted to get down on my knee for you.”
“But we’re on the same plain, Anthony. Ask me from here. Hold me while you do it.”
I nod, smile, and swipe my thumb over her smooth skin while I dig the ring out of my pocket.
“Oh, God, this is really happening, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
I can’t contain the banshee grin, in disbelief myself. Pen folds her hands in front of her lips. Popping open the box, I hear her gasp, then focus on the wells of her eyes to keep the bees away. Still, I can’t help the words from shaking.
“Penelope Jayne. This is the start of our forever chapter. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She nods, quick little bops of her head, before a watery, Yes! heals every misfortune my heart has ever known.
She throws her arms around me, squishing the ring between us, like the symbol of our love isn’t rooted in silver bands, but in the way our arms fit around each other.
“You’re mine forever, boss?”
“Yes. Forever, baby.”
We rock back and forth until I can’t take it any longer.
“Let me kiss my fiancé,” I demand, and before I can even finish that sentence, her lips are on mine.
It’s funny, how we start so hungry and demanding, but fade into the soft slowness, knowing now that our time isn’t limited.
“Okay, wait, let me see it,” she giggles, scooting backwards on my lap. I open the box that was snapped shut during our embrace, and watch her eyes dazzle. “Oh. My fiancé did good .”
I growl. “I did not expect that word to do things to me, but we’re about to defile this chair a second time if you keep that up.”
“Put it on my finger and see where that gets us.”
She lifts her brow in challenge, and I have to stifle another animalistic sound, because sliding the band onto her finger fills me with a caveman sort of possession I didn’t know I had in me until Penelope Barker said yes to being mine until death.
And then, we just stare. At the glittering band around her finger. Absorbing what it symbolizes. The way our path might not have been a perfect circle, but it brought us right back around to the beginning.
Exhaling, I lift her hand, turning it delicately in mine so that the diamond sparkles in the moonlight.
“Wow. I just cannot believe I’m going to be Mr. PJ Layne.”
That same hand comes to smack me in the chest. I let out an over-exaggerated Oof! but hold her there. She’s giving me that deadpan stare where only one of her eyelids twitches, so I lean in to kiss it. She surrenders, leaning her head against my lips. I cup the back of her head, taking my time with my forever.
Staring out into the same night sky that is somehow worlds different.
Back then, I had wished on the stars above for the answers.
Now, I’m looking back up at them with all the answer I need right in the palm of my hands.