Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Ready for dessert?” he asked, picking up our empty plates.
“Of course. Can I help clear the table?” I started to get up.
“No.” Ryan pressed a hand to my shoulder. “Stay here. I’m doing all the work tonight.”
“If you insist,” I said, drinking the last of my wine. “But you’re spoiling me rotten, you know.”
“That’s my plan.”
When the table was clear, he called out from the kitchen. “Close your eyes, okay?”
I obeyed. “They’re closed!”
He came into the room and set something in front of me. “You can open them.”
When I looked down, I squealed. “A homemade apple crumble pie! Did you bake this up there?”
“Sort of. Grams and I made the dough up there for the crust, which I asked Emme to keep in her freezer so you wouldn’t find it. Then Emme helped me with the filling and topping this afternoon so it would be fresh.”
I shook my head. “And neither of you is a good liar! I can’t believe I didn’t sense something was going on.”
“In this case, I’m glad your intuition has the occasional off day.” He handed me Grams’s silver pie server. “Want to do the honors?”
“Sure.” I went to slice into the center of the pie, but the tip of the knife hit something hard. For a second, I thought maybe he and Emme had screwed something up. I tried a second time, and hit something again. “Um, something isn’t right.”
“It’s not? Let me try.” Pushing his chair back, he stood up and took the knife from me, poking around in the filling. “Hmm. You’re right. It’s like something is in there.”
Before I could register what was going on, he dug around the pie and scooped up whatever was in the middle. Then he put it on my plate.
I stared at it.
Covered in apple pie filling and brown-sugar-and-cinnamon topping was something made of wood.
“Is it … a present?” I wondered. I used my fork to clean it off a little and saw it was a shallow, heart-shaped object about three inches tall and three inches wide.
“I don’t know,” he said seriously. “Can you open it?”
I looked at up at him. Was there a smile playing on his lips?
Confused, I used the napkin from my lap to wipe it clean. Setting the napkin aside, I turned the heart over in my hands and studied it closer. There was a tiny gold hinge between the two rounded curves at the top of the heart, which was split by a seam down the center. I opened it up from the bottom.
And gasped.
One side of the heart was hollow, but the other side hid a little pocket lined in black velvet, into which was nestled a gorgeous diamond ring.
I looked up at Ryan, and he got down on one knee at my side.
My vision blurred.
Taking the heart-shaped box from my hands, Ryan held it open toward me. “Stella,” he said, and his voice didn’t waver one bit. “There were many days in my life when I thought I would die. Mornings I’d wake up knowing it could be my last. And I wasn’t scared. I knew what was expected of me, and I’d have given my life.”
My throat was tight. “I know.”
“And I can’t tell you how many times I lay awake at night wondering why I was spared when so many other guys, better guys, stronger guys, guys with wives and kids and a million more reasons to live, were not. Just like my mother’s death, it never made any sense.”
“Ryan,” I whispered.
“It never made any sense,” he went on, “until I met you.”
I swallowed hard as tears dripped from my eyes.
“I don’t pretend to understand God. I’ve seen too much for that.” He brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, wiping away the tears. “But someone must have been looking out for me. Someone must have known I had a reason all along. And that reason was you.”
I began to sob openly, and it wasn’t pretty like the movies. It was a gut-wrenching, heart-clenching ugly cry.
“I hope those are happy tears, because I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” I managed to squeak, nodding as tears splashed down my cheeks. “Yes!”
He pulled the ring from its cushion—a beautiful, sparkling round solitaire in a platinum band that suited my classic, understated style perfectly—and slipped it on my finger.
We stood up together, and I continued to weep into his chest. He held me tight, rocking me gently, his lips resting on the top of my head.
All I could think of was how lucky I was to have a man like him, a love like this, and a future as beautiful as anything I’d ever dreamed.
When I finally calmed down, I had to get another look at my ring. Leaning back at the waist, I put my palm on Ryan’s mascara-stained shirt and studied it in disbelief. “It fits perfectly,” I sniffled. “How did you know?”