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“Done what?”
He steps back and falls to one knee, staring up at me with those intense, possessive eyes of his.
“Lola Fitzgerald,” he says. “Will you make me the happiest man alive?”
He reaches into his pocket and takes out a red ring box. He opens it, revealing an elegant white diamond set within a shining silver band. There’s a tiny mote of red in the diamond, a subtle signature, not overpowering or gaudy at all. It’s like a dancing flame set within ice. It’s perfect.
“Will you marry me?” he says, voice all husky and hot.
“Yes,” I cry. “Yes, yes, yes. Of course, I will. Oh God, this is happening, isn’t it? This is really happening.”
He takes the ring and slips it onto my finger, rises to his feet, and pulls me into his arms. I’m swept away as he spins me around and around, my feet flying off the rose-petal floor like any second I’m going to be whisked away and enter the atmosphere. I feel weightless.
He kisses me hard, our bodies crushed together, our lust and our love exploding.
“Do you like the ring?” he asks, breaking it off for a moment. His nose is tickling mine. My pussy pulses in need. “I can have the red jewel removed if you don’t like it. But I thought it would be a nice reminder of the holiday that brought us together.”
“Whoah,” I giggle, shivering against him. “So Liam Larson really is a Valentine’s Day convert now then.”
“Guilty as charged,” he chuckles.
“I love the ring,” I tell him. “I don’t want to change a thing.”
“And I love you,” he snarls, kissing me again, harder, more passionately this time.
I match his rhythm, moving my body against his, the scent of flowers and love and life flurrying up inside of me. He carries me across the room and pushes me onto the table, but then suddenly cuts the kiss short.
“What’s wrong?” I ask breathlessly.
He holds up a bottle with a grin. It must’ve fallen off the table and he quickly caught it. I was so captivated by the pressure of his lips I didn’t even notice.
“Wouldn’t want to ruin our champagne, would we? It’s the same one we had at the lodge.”
My heart melts and glows and fires like a Cupid’s arrow inside of me.
“God, I love you,” I say. “You really have thought of everything.”
Epilogue
Three Weeks Later
Liam
I drop to the ground, my muscles pulsing nicely after my pull up workout. The new apartment’s gym is looking good now after I had it professionally installed last week. Standing at the pull up section and looking over all the equipment, it’s easy to imagine that I’m back home, in Crest Fall.
But this is the apartment I bought so that I could spend as much time with Lola as possible, and there’s not even a tiny part of me that regrets the decision.
The rest of the apartment is already full of Lola’s flourishes.
She’s officially still living at the dorm with Kayley, but she stays with me every night that I’ve been up here, and pretty soon I’m going to ask her to move in here with me. She can stay here when I’m back in Maine.
It’s love. It works. It’s beautiful and I feel complete.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel as though there’s this piece of me missing, a breakaway something that makes me feel cold and distant.
My buzzer goes off, reminding me that it’s time for another set. Hunter groans from the corner, wagging his tail slightly.
My gaze moves over the wall-length mirrors – over my hulking sweat-dappled body – to where Hunter lays. I’ve been flying him back and forth with me on the private plane every single time, and I’m going to keep doing it as long as Lola is in college. I refuse to go anywhere without him.
“Just one more set, boy,” I tell him.
I jump up and tense up, pulling myself toward the ceiling, my muscles roaring nicely.
“Liam?” Lola murmurs from the door.
I drop down and land in an agile fighter’s crouch.
“Yes?” I say, turning.
There’s a quiver in her voice.
For a second panic streaks through me.
But then I see the look in her eyes, wide and beautiful and so potently alive. She’s really started to flower since she knocked it out of the park at Hidden, and I can’t wait to see how she flourishes as the rest of our lives unfold brightly.
She’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, baggy, and yet even baggy I feel my tense body pumping hotly at the sight of her.
I’d take her right this second if it wasn’t for the object she’s clutching in her hand.
“Is that what I think it is?” I murmur, moving slowly toward her.
She nods, sniffing back tears, my beautiful dramatic princess.
“Yes,” she says. “It’s the third one I’ve done. I wanted to be sure.”
