“What’s the house look like?” he asks.
“Halle sent me your mood boards for a house. It’s all there, just like you imagined it.”
“Rhett—”
“You’ll see tomorrow.” I press my mouth to the top of his head. “I want to watch your face when you see it for the first time.”
He makes a sound that’s not quite a complaint. “That’s manipulative.”
“That’s called anticipation. You’ll survive.”
We stay there until the afternoon goes gold and then starts going gray, neither of us in any particular hurry to move. Eventually, Miranda comes home, opens the door, clocks the two of us on the floor and the ring on his hand, and screams loud enough that the neighbor’s dog starts barking.
“FINALLY.” She points at me. “I’ve been keeping secrets for eight months.Eight months, Rhett. Do you know what that does to a person?”
“Halle told him about the party,” I say.
“That’s irrelevant. I kept the important secrets.” She drops onto the couch above us and grabs Colt’s hand, looking at thering with the expression of a woman who has earned the right to be emotional about this. Her eyes go bright. “It’s perfect.”
“That’s what I said,” Colt tells her.
“Obviously. I have excellent taste.” She squeezes his hand once, gets up, and goes to the kitchen before she comes back with three beers and hands them out. “Okay. We’re celebrating. And then, tomorrow, we’re going to Cedarbrook because there are apparently cakes—plural—involved, which is the correct response to this situation.”
Colt looks at me.
I look at him.
“I love you,” I say, because I can. Because I’m not afraid of it anymore. Because I have said it enough times now that it comes easy and will come easy, for the rest of my life.
“I know.” He clinks his beer against mine. “I love you too. Even though you left the speech in the truck.”
“It was a good speech.”
“I’m sure it was.” He takes a drink. “You can read it to me at the party.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay, at the wedding then.”
