Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Me: Just a coincidence. See you at 7.
I arrived at the restaurant early to check Derek's work, relieved to find he'd at least done his part right. The photos were arranged exactly as I'd planned—a timeline of our relationship starting at the entrance to the terrace. Ireland, the ski resort, and a few candid moments I’d managed to collect of us by begging everybody in attendance to look through their camera rolls for me. I’d had each photo printed out and included a handwritten note about what that moment or place meant to me.
Once I was sure everything was in place, I drove back to pick Emma up from our apartment. I had to dodge a hundred of her questions on the ride as she tried desperately to ruin the surprise. I also had to avoid pulling the car over and missing out on the plan because she looked so insanely sexy in that blue dress. She hadn’t been exaggerating about what it did for her curves.
I helped her out of the car once we arrived, smiling as I looked her over and reminded myself for the millionth time that she was mine. Somehow, some way, this gorgeous woman had picked me. And tonight… Tonight I was going to make it permanent.
"You're beautiful." I caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Ready for dinner?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you look nervous?"
"Do I?"
"James Carter, I’m beginning to suspect you’re about to —
"You'll see," I said, cutting her off. I led up the stairs past the indoor dining room and toward the rooftop terrace. "Close your eyes."
"Really?"
"Humor me."
She did, though her smile was suspicious. I guided her outside to the terrace, positioning her at the start of the photo timeline.
"Okay," I said softly, "open them."
Emma's hand flew to her mouth as she took in the first photo. It was the wine cellar in Ireland. Granted, it was empty, but I’d flown out just to get this one because I knew the collection wouldn’t be complete without it. I had put a little note card labeled “Emma” on the table and positioned a second labeled “Me,” just for the humorous touch.
"How did you..."
"Remember that boy’s weekend to Vegas?” I asked. “I flew out to get this one.”
“I can’t believe you did that…” she whispered.
I watched her move from photo to photo, reading each note. Her at the ski resort, covered in snow. Us dancing at Lily's wedding. Candid moments from our office, both of us caught up in work but stealing glances at each other.
"James..." Her voice was thick with emotion.
"Almost there."
The final photo was from just last week—Emma asleep on our couch, case files spread around her, wearing one of my sweaters. My note read: This is the moment I knew I couldn't wait any longer to ask you to marry me.
When she turned around, I was on one knee.
"Emma Marshall," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "You walked into my life and turned everything upside down. You made me question everything I thought I knew about love. About trust. About what's worth fighting for."
She was crying now, but smiling through the tears.
"You're the first person I want to tell when something good happens. The only person I want to talk to when things go wrong. You make me better, not because you try to fix me, but because you love me exactly as I am while making me want to be more."
"James..."
"Will you marry me? And maybe help me un-wreck a few more weddings along the way?"
She laughed through her tears. "Only if you promise to never actually wreck ours."
"Is that a yes?"
She pulled me to my feet, cupping my face in her hands. "Yes. A thousand times yes."
I slid the ring onto her finger with shaking hands, then kissed her like my life depended on it.
"I can't believe you did all this," she whispered.
"I had help. Even if Derek can't act casual to save his life."
She laughed, then kissed me again. "I love you.”
"I love you too." I pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her perfume.