I shake my head, hiding a smile, and go surprise my girl.
The exteriorof the old Victorian is fully restored, with a new turret, wrap-around porch, and fresh paint. Lisette wanted it to be close to the original colors of light blue with cream and dark gray trim. The work has taken months, but seeing her smile makes every hour and dollar spent worth it.
We’ve been living at my cabin, but lately, Lisette has talked about moving into the Victorian when it’s finished. We’ve talked a little about having a family. I know she wants one. She has visions of cooking with the kids in the kitchen of the old house, like when we were young. Those memories with Florine were some of my happiest, and I want any kids we might have to feel the same kind of love.
I park the truck, grab the box of cinnamon rolls, and climb the steps. Muffled music comes from inside, telling me my girl’s in her new space, working on another book restoration.
I follow the music to the back of the house where we added a large conservatory. The domed glass room overlooks the hot springs and snow-capped mountains, letting in plenty of natural light for her workspace. There’s a comfortable sitting area for when we want to curl up together, and beyond the double-doors leading outside, a small path to the newly planted rose garden.
And yes, there is a library. It’s under construction in the turret, but I have no intention of feeding into Mae and Thomas’s nonsense.
Lisette is humming to the music, bent over a thick book while she gently removes the embossed leather from the damaged book board. She’s so focused, she doesn’t hear me approach.
I wait until she’s removed the tool from the leather, then say, “Morning, beautiful.”
Lisette jumps, startled, then flies out of her chair and into my arms. The chair hits the ground with a thud, but I don’t care. She’s perfect.
“Dorian! I thought you were coming home tomorrow.” She cups my cheeks and pulls my head down for a kiss.
“Couldn’t stand to be away another day,” I murmur against her lips.
She hums and lays her head on my shoulder, perking up when she sees the box in my hand. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Have you been a good girl?”
Her laugh is low and sexy, as she nuzzles my neck. “Only for you.”
I kiss her, filling my lungs with her scent and my heart with her love.
Taking her hand, I draw her over to the couch and sink onto the cushions, pulling her onto my lap. She snuggles close, and I give her the box of cinnamon rolls.
“Is this lunch?” she asks.
“Dessert.”
Lisette grins and opens the lid. Then slams it closed.
“Dorian.”
I lean in and kiss her neck. “Hmm?”
“What is that?”
“A box.”
She draws a heart on the lid with her finger. “Yes, but it’s a boxwithina box.”
“Yes.”
She licks her lips, then slowly opens the lid again.
Six cinnamon rolls are inside and nestled on a napkin on top, a black velvet box.
Lisette touches the pendant at her neck. For Christmas, I bought her a proper necklace to replace the yarn. “But you already gave me jewelry.”
“You’re stalling.” My breath hitches as doubt creeps in. Is it too soon? It’s been a year.
Her hand trembles as she reaches for the box. Inside is an Art Deco style engagement ring with little emeralds on the side. I don’t know much about style, but I was assured…
