Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Her lashes lift, and I see the question forming in her eyes. Before it can make it to her lips, I carefully remove the seed from its velvet bed, and open her palm.
“I know it’s unconventional.” My voice almost fails me as those green eyes, clear as glass, blink back at me. “And I promise I’ll get you an actual ring, but this felt right to me. Today. Right now. I have to ask you this.”
“Bishop, what—”
“Will you marry me?”
All the air swooshes from her chest, through her mouth. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open and then snaps closed.
“Bishop, I—”
“Say yes.” I lean forward, caressing the skin behind her neck. “I don’t want to wait for the smoke to clear or for everything to make sense. I have to know today that you’ll be mine forever, Sof.”
“This business with Kyle still has—”
“No bearing on whether or not you love me. On if we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.”
“There’s still such a cloud hanging over me, though,” she whispers.
I lift her chin, swiping my thumb over the tear streaking down her cheek.
“There’s no cloud,” I tell her, cupping her chin. “Not between you and me. The world can go to hell. Remember I told you once that you should follow the fire, find out what burns inside you and let it guide you?”
She lays her forehead against mine, nodding, one hand slipping behind my neck, fingers sliding in my hair.
“You, Sofie Baston, are my fire.” My voice withers for a second, simply failing with the emotion of the truth. I swallow, determined to say these words. “What I feel for you guides me. Guided me right to you. To this moment. Forget the rest of the world.”
I lean in to kiss her, melding our mouths, licking into her sweet heat.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you, Sofie.” I punctuate the words with kisses. “Your strength, your courage, your conviction. Don’t ever think you’re not good enough for me. I only hope I can be good enough for you because you, darlin’, are damn magnificent.”
“Bishop, I—”
“Say yes,” I mumble against her lips. “Baby, say yes.”
She pulls back just enough to search my face, to probe my eyes, which I know reflect how absolutely sure I am about this. A smile starts in her eyes and works its way to her mouth. She closes her fingers over the seed tightly, protecting it in her palm. I hold my breath, waiting for her to give voice to what I see in her eyes. Waiting for her to seal what we feel right now into forever.
“Yes.”
Epilogue
FIVE YEARS LATER
Sofie
Hey, Sofie! Could I get a picture?”
I turn in the direction of the request, shielding my eyes with one hand against the Hawaiian sun. It’s not a reporter or a photographer. Just a woman approaching me, Kindle in one hand, phone in the other. Her kids build sand castles behind her, visors on their heads.
“Could I get a picture with you?” she repeats, smiling at me widely, genuinely. “I live on your site. Love all the Haven stuff.”
I hesitate, shifting the weight of what I’m holding on my hip. I’m pretty wary of pictures these days. I’ve had enough of the limelight. Not that I’m completely out, but I haven’t walked a runway in years. People don’t stop me on the street as much. I still have a few endorsements, but I’ve deliberately shrunk the circle of light I stand in.
“This bathing suit is actually Haven,” the woman continues, setting her Kindle on the sand.
I look a little more closely and recognize the suit from last season’s Haven swimwear line.
“It looks great on you.” I smile back, still not sure about the picture.
“Well, I do Jalene’s videos on the site every morning,” she says. “Even had the hubs install a barre in the basement.”
“That’s awesome. Well, I can tell it’s paying off.”
Her eyes catch something over my shoulder, admiration widening her smile even more.
“Isn’t that your husband?”
I twist to look over my shoulder, my heart still leavening in my chest at the sight of Trevor after five years. Those damn butterflies are here to stay, apparently, because they still flap madly when he smiles at me like that, like I’m the appetizer, main course, and dessert all wrapped in one bite.
“Yep, that’s him,” I say absently, distracted by the cling of his wet suit molding the bulge of his arms, the muscles in his legs, the width of his chest.
He lopes toward us, water running from his hair and down his face. He reaches for the towel on the lounge chair where I’ve stowed our things.
“Hi, there,” he says to the lady ogling him. I’m not sure if it’s all the dripping wet, ginger-topped eye candy making her cheeks flame, or that hot, sticky-sweet Southern drawl of his. Both get me every time, so I can’t blame her.