24. Real Love, Real Life #2
We were so comfortable and content, dividing our time between our houses, staying late until sleep begged for attention, and eventually parting ways until tomorrow.
It was a life that felt both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
Ordinary in its daily rhythms, its small domestic rituals, its predictable patterns of work and meals and evening conversations.
Extraordinary in how right it felt, how perfectly we'd learned to move around each other, how natural it had become to plan tomorrow around we instead of me.
Later that evening, as we cooked dinner together in my kitchen, I found myself humming without realizing it, tasting and adjusting seasonings with the unconscious confidence I’d developed after learning how to cook, thanks to Kathy and Janet’s expertise.
"You're staring," I sing-songed without looking up from the stove, feeling his eyes on me—something he always did when I hummed while cooking or grading papers.
"I'm appreciating."
"Appreciating what? My messy hair or the splatters on my apron?"
"Both. You."
I turned to look at him, my chest tightening when I noticed his tussled hair and rugged clothes. He’d been helping one of the newer veterans get settled with his service dog. PTSD is a real thing, and Daniel, the service dog, was helping his owner, Ace, through it all.
After dinner, we settled on the couch with hot chocolate and popcorn while we watched Battleship, one of my favorites.
Outside, February snow fell in lazy spirals past the window, but inside felt warm and exactly right.
I cuddled into Levi’s shoulder with his arm over mine. It was the perfect night.
"Janet stopped by the school today," I said, curling up against his side with my mug cradled in both hands. I tapped my fingers anxiously on the ceramic. "She's planning something for Valentine's Day."
Levi paused the movie. "Define 'something,'" he said, and I laughed at his wary tone. He'd learned to be cautious of Janet's party-planning enthusiasm.
"Dinner at the inn. Nothing fancy, she says, just a nice evening for couples in town." I grinned. "She also mentioned that David is finally coming home for a visit." I sang the last part.
David was Janet's husband, a military construction foreman who'd been working overseas contracts for the past two years.
Levi had told me numerous stories about him—how he and Janet met, how they'd managed a long-distance marriage with grace and humor, how excited she'd been about his upcoming leave.
"I know. She's been counting down the days."
"She has. And she's nervous, which is adorable. Like they haven't been married for fifteen years."
"Love does that," Levi observed. "Makes you excited and nervous all at the same time."
Something in his tone made me tilt my head to look up at him. "Yeah, like what?"
The question was simple, but Levi’s face complicated it. I watched him tense, his jaw clenching and relaxing as fifty emotions flickered across his features and a hundred thoughts seemed to gather in his eyes.
He set down his hot chocolate and turned to face me more fully.
I sat up, a bit scared of what was to come.
Levi and I had our bumps and bruises over the last few months since I’d arrived.
There were times I thought we weren’t going to make it as a couple, and now, as I looked into his eyes and saw the same fear I’d seen when I told him about the Miller’s Pass job, my heart skipped and almost paused entirely.
He took my hands in his. They were warm and calloused and perfect. His hands could haul and huck hay all day, then hold me with tender love and affection all in one day.. He was my perfect.
“Levi, you’re starting to scare me,” I said, holding my breath.
"No, sorry, I’m totally ruining this."
“You haven’t ruined anything. You haven’t said anything yet.” I laughed, nervous but aching to know.
“I’m just… a little nervous. Be patient with me.” He swallowed, his voice soft. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. Been thinking about it for weeks.”
My heart kicked into gear. My eyes widened, processing the shift—this wasn’t casual anymore. This was different. His demeanor had changed.
“What kind of something?”
He took a deep breath. Exhaled. Then, wordlessly, he reached into his pocket. His fingers curled around something small. He opened his hand—and there it was.
A ring box.
The world tilted.
My breath caught sharply in my chest, followed instantly by a smile that bloomed bigger than I knew was possible. It stretched across my soul.
"Levi," I whispered, half awe, half disbelief.
He met my gaze with something more than love—something ancient.
“Cassie Grant,” he said gently, reverently.
Then he opened the box, revealing a ring that shimmered as if it had waited its entire life to land here.
A simple solitaire, elegant, timeless… exactly what I would've chosen if I’d dared to imagine this moment.
“Will you marry me?”
The words didn’t just land in the air. They sank into my skin, curled around my spine, and filled every corner of me with warmth. I blinked at him, eyes stinging with surprise and joy.
“Say it again?” I asked, needing to hear it twice to be sure this wasn’t some enchanted moment conjured up by hot chocolate and twinkle lights.
“Will you marry me?” he repeated softly, leaning forward just enough that his forehead touched mine.
And this time, my answer didn’t tremble.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Absolutely, completely, eternally—with my whole heart, yes.”
He slid the ring onto my finger, and I felt it—really felt it—like a seal pressed over a love letter we’d been writing since the moment I stepped out of Tim’s tow truck. The ring sparkled, catching the glow of our still-up Christmas tree, casting tiny firework reflections across both our cheeks.
“I’ve never seen you look at me like that,” Levi said, voice hushed and full of wonder.
“Like you just handed me the stars?” I teased, my voice breaking into happy laughter.
“Something like that.”
I wrapped my arms around him and launched myself into his lap with reckless joy, nearly knocking over the bowl of popcorn and causing our mugs to slosh dangerously. He caught me with the instinct built over hundreds of nights, and when he turned me around in his lap, the world felt centered again.
When he pulled back, our noses bumped, our foreheads touched, and we both laughed through tears. “We probably just scared half the neighbors,” he chuckled.
“I don’t care,” I said, watching the ring catch the light like a shared secret. “We’re worth every noise complaint.”
Levi kissed my temple, then rested his against mine. “I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you more,” I whispered. “And no matter how messy we’ve been… this is perfect.”
Outside, snow dusted the windows like icing on a fairytale we didn’t know we’d get to live. Inside, the twinkling tree lights blinked like tiny witnesses to the best moment of our story so far.
“We really should throw that out soon,” he laughed.
"When?" I asked, half-bouncing, half-wriggling in excitement.
“I can take it out tomorrow.”
"No. Not the tree. When do you want to get married?" I laughed and playfully tickled his sides.
"Tomorrow," he said without hesitation. "But I suppose we should probably plan something that involves our families and friends."
"Probably," I agreed, grinning. "Though the idea of eloping has its appeal."
"We could do both. Small ceremony here, big celebration later. Or whatever you want. I just want to be married to you."
I kissed him then, soft and sweet and full of promise, and it tasted like forever
The Valentine's Day dinner at the Everwood Inn two weeks later was exactly the type of event Janet specialized in—elegant enough to feel special, casual enough to feel comfortable, and perfectly orchestrated.
The dining room had been transformed with soft lighting and flowers. February didn’t disappoint with its light snow shower for the romantic late-winter weather. Tables were set for couples, and the whole space felt warm and intimate. Celebrating love in all its forms.