He shakes his head curtly. “No, but every single time we get a new dog, she’s going to want to add them in. Does the artist do additions?”
Penny laughs, brushing away tears as she studies her babies immortalized in paint.
“I thought you said no more dogs, you giant fucking pushover?” Wyatt asks.
Declan glances at him, a smirk on his mouth, and slaps his hand onto his leg—squeezing until Wyatt jolts in pain.
I look at Penny and she looks at me. She outstretches her hand, tears in her eyes, and takes my fingers in hers. With three squeezes, she lets go, but she doesn’t move to take even a single step away from the painting.
“Maybe we should get a lakehouse.”
I huff a laugh, lounging between Boston’s legs on the porch, looking out at the dark water. Everyone is in bed, but not us. We decided to share a bottle of wine and enjoy our last night in the city where we fell for each other.
“I love our farmhouse.”
His arms tighten around me. “Me too.”
The gentle sound of the water and the murmuring from the crickets warms my soul. There is magic in this city. I can’t put my finger on it, but it breeds love like nothing I have ever seen. I feel it in every corner of this property, of the town itself, and in the people I’ve grown to care for.
Deep in my heart, I know it’s a place that will always be important to me.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Boston asks, his mouth near my ear. “In life. If you could have anything, what would you want?”
I swallow, sliding my hands over his. The question scares me. I worry Boston and I will not always be travelling down the same path, that there will come a point where we venture in different directions. The thought paralyzes me with fear.
“You.”
“Done,” he says, kissing my hair. “What else? Be honest.”
“Boston,” I say quietly, leaning back to look at him. I’m immediately met with warm, green eyes. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I want to know,” he says simply, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth now. “What does your future look like in that brilliant head of yours?”
My throat bobs, studying his face.
He searches my eyes. “There are no wrong answers.”
“Yes, there are,” I say quietly, but his grip tightens around me.
“Tell me,” he says, offering a gentle nudge. “Whatever you say is not a death sentence for us, Ari. I promise.”
It might be. Eventually… it may be the exact thing that takes us out, and I’m not ready to think about it.
“I want to marry you,” I whisper, expecting his face to fall, but it doesn’t. He nods, encouraging me to continue, giving me his complete, undivided attention. “I love the idea of having a family with you, Boston. Kids. Dogs. Cows. Baby goats.”
“Who arealsokids,” he corrects.
My brow furrows as I scan his face. “I know we haven’t really talked about this in a while, and I know where you stand, but?—”
“Where Istood,”he corrects. “Before you.”
“You don’t have to change what you want to make me happy.”
“I’m not,” he says, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I want to marry you right back, Ari. Not a question in my mind about it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he answers, kissing my temple. “I worry about how I’d be as a dad, but I know you’d be a great mom. Like Remi, you’d help me…grow into fatherhood. You’d help me be the dad I want to be. If you want kids, I want to give them to you.”
