Chapter 89
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
Harper
I turn around, and Ace Sterling is on one knee in the dirt.
The sunset is behind him. The foundations of our house are around him. His hat nearly falls off my head as I freeze.
He's holding a small box. His hand is shaking. This man rides bulls. This man has been shot, stabbed, and run off the road, and his hand is trembling, the same way it did at homecoming.
His mouth opens, yet nothing comes out.
He tries again. Whatever speech he had perfected, I think it’s gone. Completely gone. Wiped clean off the face of the earth. He's staring up at me with tears in his eyes and his jaw working, and not a single word arriving.
And then he gives up on all of it and opens the box.
"Please," he says.
That's it. That's the whole speech. One word, cracked down the middle, and that is all I need.
Please.
I look down at the ring, and my knees nearly go.
A yellow diamond. Surrounded by a halo of clear ones. Sunshine wrapped in stars.
I know this ring.
I saw it once, in the window of the jeweler on Main Street, the summer we were eighteen. I stopped and looked at it for maybe ten seconds and said that's the prettiest thing I've ever seen and we kept walking, and I never thought about it again.
He did.
"Ace," I whisper. "Is that—"
"Bought it three weeks later." His voice is wrecked.
"Worked the whole summer hauling feed for my dad to pay for it.
Been sittin' in my sock drawer for nine years, Goldie.
Through everything. I tried to throw it in the creek once after you left.
Couldn't do it. Couldn't even take it out of the house. "
The tears are pouring down my face now.
"I had a whole speech," he says helplessly. "It was real good. There was a bit about the stars. Jett cried."
I laugh and sob at the same time.
"But I'm lookin' at you, and you're wearin' my hat, and you're growin' my daughter, and you're standin' on our porch," his voice breaks, "and all I got left is please. Please, Harper. Marry me. Please."
The mare nudges my shoulder. I don't make him wait. He's waited nine years. He's waited long enough.
"Yes." I drop to my knees in the dirt right in front of him, because I'm not standing over this man for one more second; I'm meeting him where he is, the way I should have done from the start. "Yes, Ace. Yes."
His whole face comes apart. He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits, nine years and a pregnancy later, and it fits. And then his hands are in my hair, and he's kissing me, and we're both crying and laughing into each other's mouths.
"Took you long enough," I whisper against his lips.
"Me?" He pulls back, grinning, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I've had the ring since I was eighteen, woman. You're the one who took the scenic route."
"Nine years."
"Worth every damn day."
He presses his forehead to mine. His hand spreads over my bump, over April, over everything we made, almost lost, and got back anyway.
The sun drops behind the ridge. And the yellow diamond catches the last of the light, glowing on my finger like a little piece of sunset I get to keep.
“When? When can I become your wife?” I ask.
In all honesty, I don’t want to wait. In a perfect world, I’d marry him tomorrow. Right here at our spot. With our family and no one else.
“I’d marry you tomorrow, Harper.”
I look up at him through my lashes. “Do you think we could get everything planned by next weekend?”
He smiles, his perfect white teeth appearing.
“I told you once I’d get you the stars if I could, baby. A wedding next week? Easy. If that’s what you want?”
“That’s all I’ve ever really wanted, Acey.”
Harper Sterling.
Finally. Finally. Finally.