Chapter 33

Opal took Mike's hand and stepped up into the house. Her house. Gerty, Tag, and Steele had already entered, and Opal had been last. She stopped as the others spread out throughout the space, and while it didn't have all the walls perfectly plastered and painted, nor any windows, doors, countertops, furniture, or fixtures, Opal felt the pure oxygen of it filling her lungs.

This was her house.

No, her home.

A home. Maybe the first one she'd ever lived in.

"Honey?"

She looked at Tag as he came back to her. "It's so bright in here," she said. "I love it."

He smiled and tucked her against his side. "It's bigger than it looks from the outside."

"There's not even a front door," she said. "You can see straight through the house, from front to back."

"Yeah, but it's deeper than it looks. That's all I meant."

The house wasn't a box, as Opal had lived in many of those and had rejected any plan that just had four corners. Therefore, her house faced the street with a flat front and a porch that ran the width of that—and around the south side, where she could sit in the winter and take in the golden sunshine.

The house ran diagonally south, creating a backyard that had solid walls along two sides, the garden at the back, and a lane that she could drive on to park anything she wanted—a boat, a trailer, extra farm trucks.

"A nice big area for living," she said, taking the first steps into the house. "Where I'll spend most of the time with the kids—if we're not outside." She went all the way to the kitchen at the back. "Separate entrance for muddy cowboys." She beamed at Tag and nodded to the right. "Back door leading to our fabulous deck."

The kitchen literally had nothing it in but walls with outlets and wires sticking out of them. No appliances. No counters. No cupboards. But Opal could see it all, including herself scrambling eggs for Tag before he went to work on the farm, and cutting up apples into chunks for the cutest dark-haired boy, who had Tag's lopsided smile and affinity for writing down his confusing thoughts, his fears, his worries, reminders for himself—and how very much he loved Opal.

She felt warm from head to toe, and not only because June had arrived, and the house had no air conditioning yet.

"Still got a few months to go," she said.

"Only two or three," Tag said. "All the finishes go in fast if they're scheduled."

She looked over to him. "Scheduled? I have to schedule them?"

"Your contractor should know when your stuff is coming," Tag said. "You want me to call him and get the schedule?"

Relief painted through Opal. "Yes," she said. "I'd love that."

They continued to walk through the house while Gerty said she wanted a back deck like the one Opal had, and Mike told her she could have whatever she wanted. She tensed for a moment, but Tag didn't say anything. It seemed so "Hammond" to just get whatever she wanted, and Opal hadn't been so sensitive to such things before.

Outside, she and Tag meandered to the edge of her garden, and such pride filled her. "I know I shouldn't think I'm so amazing," she said. "But look at my garden. There are peas and carrots and corn growing, Taggart. They're growing."

He didn't laugh at her, but he did give her that gorgeous smile. "It's pretty amazing, Opal." He cleared his throat, and she looped her arm through his to let him know she was right here, right at his side. Not in front of him, not behind. Just at his side.

"I've been thinkin'," he said gruffly. "What does a wedding look like for Opal Hammond?"

Of course she'd been thinking about marrying Tag. She loved him, and he loved her. The next logical step was marriage, especially because she wanted a family.

"I don't know," she said, the wind very nearly whipping away her words.

"Oh, that's just not true." Tag dropped his hand from his pocket and took hers safely inside his. "Here's what I know: there will be a fabulous dress, and that might take some time to get. Gorgeous flowers everywhere, because you love the way they smell and the way they look. Your family surrounding you, the men in matching cowboy hats and ties."

"No," Opal finally said. "They won't need matching ties."

Tag chuckled and leaned over to kiss her. "What will I wear?"

"A gorgeous tuxedo," she whispered. "And a silver tie, to mimic the stars. A big, smiling cowboy hat and matching boots you've polished all the dirt from, though you've probably weeded my vegetable garden only an hour earlier."

She smiled up at him and touched her mouth to his. "And you'll have a pure white rose in your lapel that will signal how pure and amazing our love is."

"And your bouquet will only be silver and white," Tag whispered back, his lips catching on hers as he spoke, and then catching to kiss her properly. "The only color will come from the guests, from the flowers, and from the food."

"I'd like to serve dinner and have dancing."

"And this would take place…?"

Opal hesitated, because while she'd thought a lot about marrying Tag and being Tag's wife and living with Tag here, she had skipped over the actual event that got her there. A lot of women dreamt of their wedding day, and Opal could admit she'd thought of it a time or two. But she'd been so focused on other things, and she had quite a bit going on right now with the construction, and continuing to build her relationship with Tag, and still coming into the woman God wanted her to be.

"I don't know," Opal said. "I'll talk to Jane and Molly. There are some great reception centers in the city."

"Do you want to get married in the city?"

"I don't know," she said. "We could get married here or at my uncle's place. I suppose it depends on the time of year too. Outdoor weddings require certain weather, and if we do something indoors, then the weather is a non-issue."

"Honeybear, I'm pretty sure you'd like an indoor wedding over an outdoor one."

"You're right about that," she murmured. "And it's June already."

"Give me a timeline," Tag said gently. "Are we talking an autumnal wedding? A winter wedding? Am I waiting until next spring to move in with you?"

Opal took a moment to consider his questions. "Can I call my mom and talk to her about it?"

"Of course, honeybear."

"Traveling for them might be hard in the winter, but maybe they could just come down here and live with me while we plan the wedding." Opal honestly didn't know what her parents might do. She knew the roads between Ivory Peaks and Coral Canyon were cleared in the winter, but snowstorms were unpredictable, and she absolutely had to have her daddy walk her down the aisle.

"Taggart," she said.

"Mm?"

"I want something big and fancy for our wedding."

"And there it is." He laughed right out loud and turned into her. "You really hadn't thought of it until now?"

"Not entirely."

"Opes," Mikey called. "We're headed back to the farmhouse."

She turned toward her brother and his family and waved. "It looks good, right?"

Mikey grinned and grinned while Gerty nodded and nodded. "Yeah," he called. "It's going to be amazing, Sissy."

"Come for dinner," Gerty said. "My grandma made corn and potato chowder, and you'll love it."

"We'll be there," Opal promised. Her family left, along with Steele, and she went back to Tag. "Will you hold me on the couch?"

And since he was the best boyfriend ever—and he had the rest of the afternoon off—he asked, "Where did you put it this time?"

"It's just me," Opal called as she opened the door to Jane and Cord's new house, on their new farm. It had once belonged to Lindsay Lewis, but she'd sold it before she married Keith. They had their own place closer to where Keith worked, and Cord wanted a more rural life than a house in a gated community. "And I have cake samples."

"In the kitchen," Jane called, and Opal hurried through the living room, with its luxurious leather couches, and into the kitchen. Molly had already arrived, as had Gerty and Opal's momma. They'd left the farm a few minutes before Opal, and she'd had to stop for the cake samples too.

She went straight to the table and set down the tray that stretched her arms wide. "Okay, we've got eight flavors of cake to sample." She pulled a piece of paper out from underneath the overly large slices of cake, each one neatly situated in a plastic clam-shell container.

"Chocolate chocolate chip," she said, pointing to the corner container. "Vanilla bean, carrot, German chocolate, Chantilly white, strawberry cheesecake, chocolate mousse, and banana."

"You went with the fruits," Jane said as she joined Opal at the table. She handed her a cup of tea and said, "It's chamomile, with honey."

"Thank you, Janey." She leaned into her cousin, such love flowing through her. She smiled at her momma, who lifted her left hand.

"Has he proposed yet?"

Opal's gaze dropped to her left hand too, where no, she did not wear a diamond yet. She held up her naked finger so everyone could see. "Not yet."

"What's he waiting for?" Molly asked. "I swear, cowboys know how to take their sweet time."

"He probably just wants to get it perfect," Gerty said. "Tag is a good guy. He loves Opal, and since he knows it's going to be a winter wedding?—"

"And that we're already planning it," Opal said.

"Right," Gerty said. "He's just trying to make it perfect."

"Do you know something we don't?" Momma asked, zeroing in on Gerty.

Her face colored up quickly, and she brushed her hair back. "No."

"Oh, I think she does," Jane said with a giggle.

"I don't," Gerty insisted. "I just know Tag, that's all."

"Forks," Molly said, getting to her feet. "Let's taste the cakes, and then I believe Opal has her dress choices narrowed down to three, and they sent her renderings with her in the dresses."

Opal bounced on the balls of her feet with giddiness. "All true. But I want cake chosen first." She took the fork Molly offered and started popping open the clamshells.

She already knew she didn't want any of the fruity ones. So the banana, carrot, and strawberry cheesecake were out. But she tasted them anyway, because the Paris Bakery made delectable cakes in any flavor.

They were all moist, and the frostings were all creamy and perfectly balanced in their sweetness compared to the cakes.

"No to the chocolate chocolate chip," she said, pushing the clamshell toward her mother. "You'll like that one."

"I know what you're going to pick," Momma said with a sly smile. She pulled the chocolate chocolate chip toward her and forked up a bite.

Opal took a bite of the vanilla bean, and she did love that one. She wanted white, white, and more white. The bakery could make the outside of any cake pure, snowy white, but Opal wanted the inside to match too.

She'd already tasted the Chantilly white, but she took another bite of it. Then another. And one more, only then realizing that the other four women had stopped tasting and were watching her.

"I think it's the Chantilly white," Jane said delicately.

"It's the winner," Opal said, licking the last of the frosting from her fork. "Now, who wants to see the dresses?" She started to reach for the dresses when Molly pushed the white cake toward her again.

"Wait, are you sure? What about the frosting on the very end?"

Opal looked down at it. The piece of cake had three layers, and they'd eaten about half of it. The thicker end, where the frosting did pile up, looked normal to Opal. "I suppose I should try it." She took her fork and swiped it through the frosting there, then put that in her mouth.

"It's so good," she said, going back for more. This time, she took a bigger bite of cake and frosting, and when she lifted her fork, something glittery and gold hung from it.

Opal froze, the breath in her lungs turning to absolute ice.

"Honeybear," came from behind her, and Opal sucked in a breath and spun to face Tag.

He wasn't standing where she thought he'd be, but he'd already dropped to both knees, right there in Jane's kitchen.

"Oh, dear Lord." Opal still held the fork with cake and a diamond, and she backed up, trying to assess the situation in only a moment. Of course she couldn't do that, but she did catalog that her female family had all scuttled into the kitchen, and both Momma and Molly had their phones up, likely recording.

Cord leaned in the doorway leading into the living room, as did Mikey, Hunter, and Daddy.

Opal's eyes filled with tears as her heartbeat paraded through her body. "Taggart," she gasped out.

"Let me have that, honey." He reached for the fork, and Opal practically dropped it. He took a handkerchief from Daddy, and cleaned the cake crumbs and frosting from the diamond. Tag gazed at it for a long, loving moment, and then his gaze came to hers.

His smile wobbled a little, and he said, "I wrote all this down in my notebook, and now I've forgotten it all."

Opal smiled back at him, the moment between them pure and priceless. "You can do it," she whispered.

"Honey, I'm in love with you," he said. "It's something I can't fight, and I can't change. I want you at my side for the rest of my life, and I want to be your biggest champion, your confidante, and your best friend."

He held up the ring, as if Opal hadn't seen the giant round rock. "Will you do me a great honor and marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Oh, we can't hear you in the back," Daddy called.

Opal didn't move her gaze from Tag's. He looked at her with so much hope and desire, and Opal lowered her hands from her pounding pulse and said, "Yes, I'll marry you."

"There you go," someone yelled as the applause and cheering filled the kitchen.

Tag's hands shook as he slipped the ring on her finger, and they both looked at it as he got to his feet. His hand slipped under hers, and while she heard the yelling, yeehawing, and congratulating, all she could see in that moment was her hand wearing that diamond, layered over his.

All she could smell was Taggart's cologne, and the leather that went everywhere with him, and the sweetness of frosting.

All she wanted sat right in front of her, and Opal finally felt like the woman who deserved it, could have it, and would take it.

She looked up at Tag, and said, "I love you."

"You're mine," he whispered, and then he kissed her. With every stroke of his lips against hers, Opal truly claimed him as her own while simultaneously giving herself completely to him.