Chapter 39
GRANDPA’S OLD ROWBOAT
Sera
Thane’s thumb caresses my knuckles as we walk down to the lake. The last golden rays of sunshine are tickling the water as it sets below the tree line. I follow him willingly—excited even—for whatever he has planned, because the sparkle in his eyes tells me it’s going to be good.
We get to the edge of the water, and he helps me into my grandpa’s tiny old rowboat before casting off from the shore and jumping in.
I sit on the bench across from his, and he rows in a smooth, rhythmic motion.
The sounds of the oars coax through the water, perfectly harmonizing with the birds in the trees and the crickets in the tall grass.
I take a big, deep breath in and let the moment permeate me from the inside out.
The calm surrounding us is such a contrast from the torrential week I’ve had. I’m grateful for the respite. Finally.
“Where are we going, T?” I ask in a volume just above a whisper. I don’t want to disturb nature, but my curiosity gets the best of me.
“You’ll see,” he says with a wink, and keeps rowing.
“Can I at least help you row?” I ask.
“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty,” he teases.
“Keep flirting like that and I might make you walk the plank, Donnelly.”
He laughs, and the deep, velvety sound thrums in my ears.
“If I go down, you’re going down with me, Spencer.”
It’s my turn to laugh, and I release all the tension this week created in my bones. I lean on my elbow and look up at the sky.
The moon rests lazily above the trees, waiting for the bright reds and oranges beaming on the horizon to transform into purples and blacks so it can have the spotlight.
“I can’t believe we go back home tomorrow,” I say. Dread pours in every crack and crevice when I think about what comes next. But instead of sitting in fear of the unknown, I ask Thane, “So, what’s next for you after we get back to Long Island?” My voice shakes, betraying my nerves.
“Well,” he says pensively, “I’ll start training at Donnelly Investments, and find an apartment somewhere once I get my feet under me.”
Relief floods my body. “So you’re sticking around, then?”
A soft smile crosses his face. “Yeah, I am. I’ve had enough of traveling and being away from the people I…” he pauses before completing his sentence, “…love.”
His eyes move from the water to mine, burning a hole in any resistance I had left.
If someone had told me when I first saw Thane’s truck in the Donnellys’ driveway again that I would be in a place of forgiveness and surrender, I would’ve laughed in their face.
Yet here I am, admiring him like I used to, but from a much deeper place.
The scars and wounds of teenage Sera are stitched and healing, and the roots of something beautiful grow through the cracks left behind.
It’s amazing how love can grow and bloom from the ashes of what was there before, and become more than ever imagined.
Thane’s voice breaks the silence. “This is it,” he says, setting the oars in the boat alongside our feet. We coast inland, letting the waves set our pace.
I sit up and look around. We are alone on the lake, with the exception of a fishing boat floating past every so often, and I smile as I reach for his hand.
He pulls me across to his bench as we float into an alcove surrounded by vegetation. He pulls my legs over his lap and wraps me in his arms. I can’t get enough of kissing him. I think my body wants to make up for lost time, because once I open that door, he takes the invitation seriously.
Our boat bumps a log sticking out of the river, breaking us apart, and I move back to steady the tipping. Thane laughs and runs a hand through his hair. As he lowers it, I notice he’s trembling.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He clears his throat and a shaky smile crosses his face. “Uh, yeah.”
Immediately a stone sinks in my stomach.
“You sure? You seem nervous.”
He sits in thought for a beat, and we bonk against the log again. I grip the edges, bracing until the motion—and my stomach—settle. I stare, waiting for him to confess what is on his mind, the knot inside twisting tighter.
“Thane,” I say, “if there’s something else you need to say—“
“—Marry me!” he blurts out. If the boat rocking didn’t throw me off-balance, his words sure did.
“What did you just say?” I ask, even though I did hear him crystal clear.
“I know it’s fast, Fina. But I can’t fight against what my heart is screaming for anymore.”
He reaches into his pocket, and my heart stops.
I laugh when the moisture from the water on his hands makes the lining of his pocket snag.
He pulls a little bit too hard, and whatever was in his pocket flies from his hand and plops with a tiny splash into the lake.
I gasp, frozen in my place. But Thane screams, “No!” and dives headfirst, fully clothed, into the water, causing the boat to rock uncontrollably.
The next thing I remember, I’m launched overboard, fighting my dress wrapping around my legs and trying to figure out which way is up.
After what feels like an eternal fight with the Lake Amethyst Monster, Thane grabs my arm and pulls me up.
When I surface, he sputters, “Put your feet down. We can reach right here.”
I nod between coughs and stretch my feet toward the bottom. The deep, thick mud squishes between my toes, and it’s then that I realize I’m missing one shoe. He secures the boat between some logs and darts off after one of our oars bobbing away in the waves.
I yell after him, “If you see my flip flop, grab that too!”
When Thane returns, his face is dejected, and he has a sprig of long grass in his hair. “That is not how I planned… at all.” He huffs.
That’s when I begin to laugh.
We stand in chest-deep water, looking like drowned rats—pathetic and soaked—and it’s so… us, I can’t help it. Nothing has ever gone perfectly with Thane and me, so why would this romantic moment be an exception to that rule?
At first, he’s grumpy about how poorly his romantic gesture went, so I squish through the mud toward him, pick the grass from his hair, and plant a kiss on his mouth.
He tastes like lake water and dirt, and smells a little bit like fish, but his eyes glint with mischief as he pulls me against his soaking-wet T-shirt and kisses me until my toes curl in the mud beneath me.
He picks me up by the waist and I wrap my legs around him—not just for making out’s sake, but because he’s a foot taller than me, and that water hits my collarbones when he’s got most of his ribs above the surface.
“Serafina. Paloma. De la Rosa. Spencer,” he accentuates every word with a kiss, “will you make my childhood dream come true and marry me?” he whispers between kisses, then comes right back for more.
“I think this majorly romantic moment has gone to your head, Donnelly,” I whisper back against his lips.
He smiles against my mouth and I’d swoon if I were standing on my own two feet. “Can you blame me? Look at you: you have red lipstick smeared on your chin, and mascara dripping down your cheeks—and I can’t take my eyes off you. You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, anytime, anywhere.”
I throw my head back and laugh, and he moves his lips to my neck, taking my breath away. “Did you hit your head when you dove in, T?”
He chuckles. “We may be laughing, but I’m serious, Fina. I’ve lived life without you once. I don’t want to go another day without being your first good morning and your last goodnight.”
I pull back to look into his eyes. “You’re serious,” I say, but it comes out more as a statement than a question.
“As a heart attack,” he says softly, and plants another row of kisses across my jawline. “I even got a ring. Had a ring…” he frowns, looking down toward the water.
“Please don’t tell me it was your grandmother’s, or I’ll come out with scuba gear tomorrow and look for it,” I say, as that vintage sapphire flashes through my mind.
He laughs. “No. It was just a cheap silver band I got in town as a placeholder until we could get back home.”
A sigh of relief escapes me.
“You never answered, Fina.”
“Well, a girl needs a ring in order to accept a proposal,” I tease.
He sets me down on my feet and grabs a piece of long grass from my hair. “How ‘bout this?” he asks, tying it onto my ring finger. “Now, this here is rare Lake Amethyst grass,” he says in a faux southern accent. “It’s hard to come by, and any woman with a ring made of it is a real prize to her man.”
“Is that so?” I smile as he completes the knot and bites off the long ends.
“I’d kneel if…” he looks down at the water and shrugs, then takes my hands.
“The truth is, I’ve loved you since I was fifteen.
My mind isn’t going to change—no matter how much time passes, or how far apart we are.
My heart knows what it wants. The question is,” he pauses and a grin crosses his beautiful mouth, “what are you going to do about it?”
Right on cue, my eyes flutter shut and my chin tips up toward him.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” he says softly.
This time, when I kiss him, it’s fueled from deeper within—from a place of wanting and waiting for years—knowing our time has finally come. He wraps his strong arms around my body and holds me so tightly, I have no doubt at all that he’ll never let me go again.
So I whisper, “Yes.”