Oh my god.
This whole time—while I was pulling extra shifts, fielding chaos at the diner, putting one foot in front of the other just to survive—he was building this. For me.
For us.
My hand flies to my mouth. My eyes burn.
I look around again, like I’m trying to memorize every inch of it all at once. The house breathes with intention, like it’s already holding memories that haven’t even happened yet. Like it knows what it’s meant to be.
Home.
My knees wobble.
Boone steps forward, his arms open like he already knows I’m about to fall apart.
He steps in close, his hands finding my arms as he turns me to face him. His eyes flick over my face like he’s memorizing me, too—like this exact moment is something he’s gonna want to come back to for the rest of his life.
“I’ve loved you for most of my life, Lark,” he says, voice low, making everything in me go still. “I loved you when I was too young and too stupid to know what to do with it. I loved you when I left, even if I didn’t know how to carry that love with me. And I love you now—so much it scares the hell out of me some days.”
My breath catches, throat tightening.
He reaches up and brushes his thumb across my cheekbone, eyes so damn soft it makes me ache.
“This house,” he says, looking around for a beat before settling back on me. “It’s for us. For every burnt meal and muddy footprint and slammed door. It’s for Hudson, for chasing fireflies in the yard and s’mores and throwing the baseball back and forth. It’s for dinners with your hair still wet from the shower and Diet Coke cans on the nightstand. It’s for the life I didn’t know how much I needed until you walked back into it.”
Water blurs my vision, but I don’t blink. I don’t want to miss a single second.
“I want to build something here with you that doesn’t break when life gets hard. Something that doesn’t leave. That doesn’t run. Something real. Something permanent.”
Boone’s smile softens, like he’s barely holding himself together too, then he glances toward the door left open behind me and calls out, “You can come in now, buddy.”
I turn just in time to see Hudson step through the doorway, and that’s it. That’s the moment I completely lose it.
He’s in a tiny black suit, buttoned all the way up, white dress shirt crisp against his skin, and his hair—his long curls—are slicked back like he’s some kind of Wall Street gentleman in a twelve-year-old’s body. He’s grinning, proud and a little bashful, like he knows he looks good.
Tears fall in hot, fast streaks down my cheeks and I don’t even try to hide it anymore. I cover my face with my hands and let out a choked laugh, because how could I not? My heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.
“Iknewyou were gonna cry,” Hudson says through his smile, dimples showing, voice dancing like he’s been waiting to tease me about this all night.
“Oh mygod,” I whisper, wiping at my face even though it’s useless now. “You two are trying to kill me.”
Boone chuckles and reaches over to ruffle Hudson’s hair, careful not to ruin the slicked-back perfection. “You got me, kid?”
Hudson nods like it’s the most serious thing he’s ever done in his life. Then he digs into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small navy velvet box.
The second it hits Boone’s palm, my knees buckle.
Boone drops down to one knee, right there in the middle of the house he built with his own two hands—for us. My lungs stop working. My heart is in my throat, my ribs, my spine. Everywhere. Everything.
I’ve never been more aware of every inch of myself than I am in this moment. The silk of the dress clinging to my skin, the ache in my cheeks from smiling through tears, the way my fingers twitch at my sides like they need somewhere to land. Boone. Always Boone.
I blink down at him, my entire body trembling, and I can’t stop thinking:This is it. This is the moment. This is the part where my life changes forever.
Boone opens the box, and I swear the air leaves the room.
My hand flies to my mouth, because holy shit.
It’s stunning.
