Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Still, I can’t stop picturing it—her hand, the shine of the stone, the way her eyes will look when she realizes what I’m asking.
Soon, I remind myself.
Dinner tonight is simple—steaks on the grill, corn on the cob, and sweet tea. We eat on the deck, laughing when the corn juice dribbles down her chin and she flips me off for staring. Afterward, we curl up in front of the fire inside, her feet in my lap, her head tilted back as she tells me some story from her cleaning jobs.
“—and the guy swore he could fix drywall,” she carries on, giggling, “but the hole looked like someone had punched through with a sledgehammer. And he didn’t even have the sheetrock tape on him. Now, I’m not a professional. I’ll leave that to you, honey. But I do believe the man was not at all qualified.”
I laugh so hard my ribs hurt. God, I love that sound. Her laughing. It’s the purest thing in the world.
Saturday is for riding.
We take the Parkway, curves sharp enough to test me, views wide enough to steal our breath. She clings tight, sometimes lifting her arms just to feel the air, and I swear my chest could burst from the peace inside me. At an overlook, we stop, stretch, and she leans against the railing, wind whipping her hair.
“Worth it?” I ask, slipping my arms around her waist.
She smiles at me, soft and certain. “Always.”
We kiss, slow and lingering, until a minivan pulls up and a kid yells, “Ew!” and we laugh our way back to the bike.
Evening settles around us, I set the stage.
Dinner’s not steak this time. It’s the fancy stuff I picked up—salmon, fresh greens, a bottle of sparkling water in a glass bottle I can’t pronounce but Jenni swore was good. With her recovery we don’t drink alcohol. Special, fancy water it is and I’m okay with it more than I ever thought I could be. Maybe being a Hellion I drank so much in my younger days, I got it all out of my system. Or the reality of it is, I will do anything for Jami including giving up drinking. I light candles on the deck, spread a blanket, and put music on low.
Jami comes out in that simple sundress she packed, the one that makes her look like summer. My heart damn near stops.
“Tommy,” she whispers, eyes shining at the sight of the table. “This is beautiful.”
“You deserve it.”
We eat, we laugh, we enjoy our time together She teases me for pouring the water like I’m some kind of professional waiter. I tease her for dropping half her salad on the blanket. Everything feels light, easy, right.
And then it’s time.
My heart hammers as I reach into my pocket. The box is small, but it feels like the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried.
“Jami,” I manage to speak, voice rough. She looks up, fork paused halfway to her mouth.
“What?”
I drop to one knee.
Her eyes go wide. The fork clatters.
“Almost four years ago,” I start, throat tight, “I carried you out of hell. I thought maybe that was all I’d get—to save you once. But you, something inside me came alive. You saved me and I didn’t even know how lost I was. Every damn day since, you’ve been my reason to wake up, my reason to breathe, my reason to be better.”
Her hands fly to her mouth. Tears glisten in her eyes.
“You’re my home, Jami. Always have been, always will be. And I don’t ever want another mile of road without you on the back of my bike in the forever kind of ride. So what do you say?” I flip the box open, heart in my throat. “Marry me?”
For a second, the world holds its breath.
Then she lets out a sob and nods, hard, tears spilling. “Yes, Tommy. Yes.”
Relief slams into me so hard I almost laugh. I slide the ring on her shaking finger, stand, and she launches into my arms. I hold her close, inhaling this new beginning of me and her riding through all of life.
When I kiss her, it’s like sealing a promise I’ve been carrying for years.
She pulls back, grinning through tears. “You really surprised me.”
“Good,” I murmur against her lips. “I want to keep surprising you forever.”
She leans against me, sighing. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“Better believe it,” I whisper, kissing her shoulder and then her neck. “You’re stuck with me now.”
She laughs, soft and sweet. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”
And for once, I don’t question the how or the why or wonder when she will leave. This right here is it.
Because she’s the best thing that ever happened to me too.
Eight
Jami
One Month Later
The house is too quiet without him.
Tommy’s boots aren’t by the door. His jacket isn’t on the hook. The kitchen doesn’t smell like coffee at odd hours because he can’t sit still.