"You were a problem."
"Still am." I open the box. The diamond catches the light. "But I'm hoping you'll agree to solve me permanently."
Her hand flies to her mouth. Tears well in her eyes.
"I know it's fast," I say. "I know we've only been together a year. But I've known since that first night on my porch that I was gonna love you for the rest of my life. I just needed time to convince you I was worth keeping."
"Ev—"
"You don't have to answer right now. I can wait. I'm good at waiting. Did it for thirty-five years before you showed up."
"Everett Cole." She grabs my face with both hands, the same way I grabbed hers the first time I kissed her. "Shut up and put the ring on my finger."
I do. It fits perfectly. Mama helped with the sizing.
"Yes," Rowan says. "In case that wasn't clear. Yes, I'll marry you. Yes, I'll keep solving your problems. Yes, I'll spend the rest of my life arguing with you about sustainable forestry and beetle infestations and whether your father's record-keeping was actually that bad."
"It was that bad."
"It was terrible." She's laughing and crying at the same time. "But I love you anyway."
I kiss her. Long and deep, right there in the gazebo, in front of God and the festival and anyone who cares to watch. When I finally pull back, she's flushed and breathless.
"I love you too," I say. "In case that wasn't clear."
"It was pretty clear."
"Good." I rest my forehead against hers. "Now let's go tell my mother before she bursts from spying on us behind the muffin booth."
Rowan glances over my shoulder and laughs. Mama's not even pretending to hide. She's standing fifty feet away with her phone raised, probably filming the whole thing.
"She's gonna want to plan the wedding," Rowan says.
"Probably already started."
"She's gonna want it here. At the festival."
"Probably."
Rowan looks at me. At the gazebo. At the mountains rising behind the festival grounds, covered in the same trees my grandfather planted eighty years ago.
"I'm okay with that," she says quietly. "Getting married here. In front of the whole town. On your land."
"Our land."
She smiles. Squeezes my hand. "Our land."
We walk back toward the festival together. Mama meets us halfway, tears streaming down her face, arms already open for a hug. Within minutes, we're surrounded by neighborsand friends, everyone wanting to see the ring and offer congratulations.
Hank claps me on the shoulder. "About damn time."
"Shut up."
"Told you she was a keeper. First day she showed up, I told you."
"You told me she was trouble."
"Same thing."
