Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Love it when you punish me for my naughty ways,” he says.
“Ditto,” I say.
The next morning, he does the same to me.
That afternoon, I table the hunt for the perfect proposal moment because we’ve got an appointment with a realtor.
But when we find a gorgeous beachfront place with a balcony to die for, it occurs to me that proposing in our Hawaii home would be a stroke of brilliance.
Only it’s not ours yet.
There’s paperwork and shit to deal with, so I nix that idea. By the time we return to the resort, I’m hot and sweaty so we go for a dip in our pool.
That calls for a shower, which leads to orgasms, so that evening my mind is riding a sex high rather than a planning high.
But once we get dressed, with the soft pink light of sunset streaming through the window, I know—now is the time.
On the beach, along the ocean, at sunset.
It’s not original, but it is just right.
“Want to go for a walk on the beach?”
With a smile, Grant says, “I do.”
And yup, it’s a sign.
Five minutes later, we stroll along the water, the waves lapping the shore, the sun coasting toward the horizon. I’m a couple steps ahead of him on a stretch of soft sand.
The ideal spot.
No time like the present.
Deep breath.
No more nerves.
Just do it.
But when I turn around to get down on one knee, Grant’s already there.
34
Grant
Finally.
A walk on the beach at sunset.
This is what I’ve been trying to engineer, but the timing didn’t line up till now.
The sun is slipping toward the edge of the ocean, and soft rays dance across the water. This stretch of beach is practically a lagoon. It’s quiet, nearly private, and there’s just us.
No kids building sandcastles. No surfers hauling their boards from the water. No engagement photographer. I didn’t order one. I don’t need a pic for my socials of me asking for his hand.
I just want Declan’s yes.
And I’m not waiting any longer. Slowing my pace, I let him take a couple steps ahead of me in the sand.
This is like stepping up to the plate and taking a swing. There’s no room for fear when you’re facing a pitcher.
I refuse to feel any fear now.
Only hope.
Reaching for the band in my shorts pocket, I drop to one knee, and holy fuck. All the nerves in the world swarm me at once.
This just got so real. My knee is in the sand, the ring is in my palm, and I am about to ask Declan to marry me.
Why the hell did I think I wouldn’t be nervous?
My throat is dry. My palms are sweaty. My heart is beating so loudly, I bet Declan can hear its wild, racing rhythm. Bet he’ll be able to hear it in my voice too.
A second later, Declan turns around. He spins so fast I swear he’s Superman.
I blink and then—what just happened?
He’s . . . on . . . his . . . knee . . . too.
My jaw drops. His brow furrows. Declan’s lips part, then he tilts his head and laughs—a light and nervous sound. “Um . . .”
I open my mouth, but the whole speech I had planned about love and forever, about him and me and marriage, is gone, baby, gone. But that’s okay because my boyfriend is on bended knee, mirroring me.
“Are you . . .?” Declan asks.
“Yes. Are you?” I ask, equally shocked.
Declan tackle-hugs me onto my back, grinning down at me. “So, will you marry me?”
The best laugh ever bursts from my chest. “Will you marry me?”
With his arms wrapped around me, Declan rolls to his back and pulls me on top of him. He gazes up at me with sparks in his brown eyes and happiness etched onto his face, one hand running through my hair.
I stare down at my guy as the sun sets, as the waves lap the shore, and we ask each other the same question.
I go first. “Declan Steele, I would love to be your husband,” I say. All the laughter fades and my breath catches on the enormity of the words I just spoke.
Sure, I know his answer. He knows mine. But saying the words matters. Speaking your heart out loud to the one you love always matters.
It’s a privilege to say these words.
“Marrying you is all I want in the world,” I add as my eyes stay locked with his.
Declan lets out a shuddery breath and runs his hand down my back. “I want to be yours, Grant. I want to be your husband so badly. I want you for all my days. Always.”
“You’ve got me,” I whisper, then I drop my lips to his and kiss the man who is my forever.
His lips are soft and full, and he tastes like my missing piece. His love makes me complete; he’s the home I’ve wanted for myself. I’ve found him, and I’m going to cherish him for all time.