28. Grant

After River and I catch up on plans for The Lazy Hammock, I hunt for Declan to see if he's ready to take off.

As I turn into the big kitchen, I see Reese standing at the kitchen window. Before I can ask if she's seen Declan, she motions silently for me to join her.

Curious, I close the distance and stand next to her. She points to where the backyard falls toward a stream that circles the property.

"Look," she stage-whispers.

I do, and my gaze lands on my broad-shouldered, six-foot-three boyfriend. He's lifting Owen's pip-squeak of a niece up high, giving her a bird's-eye view of something in a tree.

My smile stretches from here to Hawaii. "Check that out."

"Damn," Reese says with an appreciative sigh. "Is there anything hotter than a guy you love being good with kids?"

She's probably right, but at the moment, Declan's just hot.

Hell, he's hot at every moment—when his hair is a wild mess in the mornings, when he's sweaty after a game. When he's asleep and when he's awake. When he curls up next to me on the couch. When he makes me sandwiches. When we go for a walk.

That man is fine, but also, I've seen beyond his looks. I know how brave and strong he is, how vulnerable and kind, how supportive and funny and fearless. I know how much he gives of himself to me—more than he realizes—and how he does it to make me happy.

He wants all the good things in the world for me.

With him, though I have so much more than I ever imagined. I have everything and then some.

"He looks good with kids, but he always looks good," I say, with a happy hum as I drink in the sight of the guy I love.

"I feel that way about Holden too." Reese leans her head on my shoulder, her blonde locks spilling across my polo shirt. "When you find the right person, you just know."

"Truer words."

Reese lifts her head, and we lock eyes. "Look at us, Grant—at how far we've come. Remember when we were younger? Hanging out, listening to music, being all emo and trying to figure out life—why my dad had left and why your parents were so messed up."

"I can picture it well." But I don't feel the same sadness or angst. Our childhoods weren't the best, but Reese and I both made it to the other side. "I especially remember you and me." I set my hand on her shoulder. "I remember that we got each other through the hard times."

"And here we are. Living on our own, meeting great men, falling in love."

"Hell, we're lucky," I agree.

She arches a brow. "Is it luck? Or was it being open to the right person at the right time?"

What Reese says rings true with me. I was open to Declan Steele from the day I met him, but the timing was all wrong. We weren't ready for real love then. But, five years later, when we found our way back to each other, I was so ready for him. For big love, for forever love. Maybe everything has fallen into place because I'm open to everything, as long as it's with him.

Watching Declan through the window, a new sense of rightness settles over me. I've had so many questions over the last few months. But the answer I'm holding onto as I leave the kitchen is one I didn't know I needed until now.

I make my way to the back door, head down the hill, and stop a foot away from the man I cherish.

"Whew. I survived that," Declan says lightly, wiping a hand across his brow. "And it wasn't as terrifying as I thought it would be."

I grin, but my smile isn't for Declan and Pearl. It's all for him.

He's relaxed, content, and... happy. He's smiling at me. With me. For me.

All at once, the picture of the rest of my life snaps into place.

The second we arrive at my grandparents' home, Grandma spins me around and sends me back to my car. "We need whipped cream. Can you get some, my favorite grandson?"

"Since you asked so nicely," I say as I trudge back down the steps. "Also, it's a grandma food rule."

Her smile is full of pride. "I taught you well."

"Can't have peach pie without whipped cream," I say as I pass Declan on the porch. When I reach the sidewalk to the street, I realize he's not following, and I turn to ask, "You're not coming with me?"

He shakes his head. "I see enough of you. I don't get as much of Kim and Trevor."

I roll my eyes. "See if I believe you next time you say you miss me."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, sweetheart," he calls playfully as I slide behind the wheel and set off through my hometown.

Along the way to the store, I pass the park where my Little League team won and lost all those games in middle school. My high school looms off to the right, the site of good and bad times. I leave them in the rearview mirror and cruise through downtown, passing Ink Lore, the place where I've gotten all my tattoos.

When I turn on the next block, I absently note the window display on one of the shops across from the grocery store. I park and trot inside to grab the whipped cream. At the checkout I pause, feeling like I'm forgetting something. By the time I pay for the whipped cream, that feeling has become a steady drumbeat in my head.

It's a powerful sound, demanding I listen. There's something I have to do.

Something I want to do.

I make my way to my car and peer across the way to the shop windows. To the display that caught my eye.

It's a jewelry store.

I can just about make out a slogan on the glass.

When you find the one you love . . .

The calligraphy leaves the sentiment unfinished, but I know how it should go.

When you find the one you love, nothing should stop you from being together.

Even if . . .

I drop the whipped cream in the car, lock the doors, and jog through the lot and across the street.

The sign on the door says the store closes in fifteen minutes. A bell tinkles softly as I go inside, and a man who looks like Andy Garcia from Ocean's Eleven looks up from the counter. "Good evening. Can I help you?"

"Hey, there." I take a deep, steadying breath. But the words unspool with ease. "I want to propose to my boyfriend and I don't want to wait much longer. Well, not this second but really soon, but I don't know a thing about rings."

"How exciting! And no worries. I know lots about them. We have a few options. Gold, white gold, and platinum." He hurries me over to the counter and shows me some bands. "Do you know what size he is?"

I shrug, then hold up my left hand. "About the same size?"

With practiced efficiency, he measures my finger then taps his chin, peering into the display cases. He selects a few rings and sets them in a velvet-lined tray on the counter.

"Do I try them on?" I ask.

With a smile, he says, "Yes, since you're the model for him."

My heart is beating outside my body as I try on rings for the man I want to become my husband. The last one is perfect—strong, solid platinum. I can't stop staring at the metal, and I swear I'm a neon sign. I'm fireworks flashing across the summer sky as I imagine sliding this ring on Declan's finger.

I want to ask him now.

But I want the moment to be magic.

I flashback to the words he breathed in my ear one night when our bodies were tangled together.

I see the only man for me.

Same, Deck. Same.

The platinum band fits like a dream, so I say, "I'll take it."