Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Everything around us fades when he stops in front of me and extends his hand. “Dance with me, love.”
I put my hand in his, and soft music fills the air as he leads me to the dance floor. We begin to sway to the music, and the crowd around us dissolves into nothingness until it’s just him and me.
“I still can’t get over how beautiful you are, you know that?”
I laugh softly. “I know. You make me feel beautiful.”
“The first time I saw you, I just knew. I knew you were mine. I knew you belonged to me. And I want to make it official.”
“What do you mean?”
In the middle of the dance floor, everything snaps back into focus when he lowers himself to one knee, takes a black velvet box from his breast pocket, and reveals a massive diamond ring.
“Raven, you’re never getting away from me. I won’t let you. So baby, will you make me the happiest man alive by becoming my wife? Will you marry me?”
All around me, I hear gasps, whispers, and titters. But I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s changed my life in so many ways, and the best place for me is by his side.
With tears pricking my eyes, I nod. “Yes, Rowan. God, yes. I will marry you!”
He stands and slips the ring into my finger before he lifts my face for a kiss, and maybe there’s applause or cheering.
But we’re too focused on each other to notice.
“I love you, Raven. My everything.”
“I love you, Rowan. I love you so much.”
EPILOGUE
RAVEN
Unbelievable.
Is this for real?
I stand in front of the white picket fence, mouth hanging open and staring at the house I envisioned myself living in as a teen. The house I told him about.
It’s a lot bigger than the one in my imagination. But it’s a two-story farmhouse cottage with light yellow shutters and a wrap-around porch framed by wooden columns. The exterior features white clapboard siding, midnight blue-shingled tiles on the steeply pitched roof, and two dormer windows on the second floor.
A swing made of honeyed wood hangs from the ceiling by two sturdy, thick ropes.
“You like it, love?”
I swing around to face him, tears already sliding down my cheeks. “What is this?”
“My little surprise. We can work on the hand-painted flower boxes when we move in.”
I choke on a sob and launch myself at him.
So this is what he’s been working on for the past year. He was busy and came home exhausted on most nights, but after I gave birth to our first son, Ryan, Rowan always took over. He made sure I had enough sleep.
He even had time to take me out on our weekly date night, but I could tell he was under a lot of pressure. I thought it was because of one of his clients.
“Was this why you were so stressed?”
He chuckles and kisses my forehead. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you. I wanted to see that exact look on your face right now.”
“Did you work on this yourself?”
Rowan gives me a knowing grin. “You know it, love. I didn’t want someone else to take credit for my gift.”
“Oh, Rowan.”
Standing on my toes, I loop my arms around his neck and crush my lips to his, taking pleasure in the way he softens and pulls me against the stiffness in his pants.
“Baby, how about we liven up the space with your moans?”
He doesn’t have to convince me. I sprint to the porch and swing the door open before turning back to him. “Catch me if you can.”
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
ROWAN
I don’t know if my kids know this, but I’ve built more than a dozen buildings in this town. I won awards. I’m so in demand I now have the luxury of refusing projects.
So them questioning my ability to build a princess castle with their Legos is a hard hit to my ego and my entire career as a handyman and owner of a construction company.
I finish the turret, and my five-year-old daughter, Riley, sighs audibly, disappointment written all over her cherubic face. None of my clients have ever looked at me the way she is looking at me right now.
“No, Dad. It has to be pink. She’s Princess Pink, remember? That’s the color of her rival kingdom.”
“It’s a fortified turret. It’s pink on the inside.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Well, so does a pink kingdom that sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the woods. It’s like a beacon to all the kingdom’s enemies. But I don’t tell her that.
“You know what? I’ll do it,” my older daughter, Rachel, says. “Maybe you can do the moat, Dad?”
The moat? The moat is really just crumpling a piece of paper and gluing it to the base.
Was I just...demoted? Like, they don’t trust I can do this?