Her eyes dart back and forth between mine, trying to gauge how serious I am. When I don’t even crack a smile at her, her eyes begin to widen.
“You’re serious?”
“Look, I know it’s only been nine months, but you practically live there already. You have the code to get into the house, the key is more a symbol of my commitment to this.” I bring my hands to her cheeks, and a smile begins to tug at the corners of my lips. “Jor, I love you. Tosha loves you. Neither of us wants to spend a second without you if we don’t need to.”
Her cheeks pull in as she sucks on them, her eyes narrowing as she lets this settle in her mind. I can see the wheels turning as she tests the waters on how serious I am. “You want all my stuff there? Taking up space?”
“It already does,” I remind her.
“Even more stuff. All of it.”
I nod. “There’s lots of room.”
“I could stain your sheets with my period.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. At one time that would have been a threat, but we both know it doesn’t hold any clout now. “I’ve fucked you on your period. Bring it on, Fireball.”
“There’s going to be no escaping me. We’re always going to be in each other’s space or not far from it.”
I shake my head. More empty threats. “Jor, I’ve got my workshop. If either of us needs space, I go out there.”
Funnily enough, I’ve already let her invade that space. I found a comfy chair secondhand that I put in there for her, though when she’s not around I’ve found myself using it more than once. She spends a lot of time in the shop with me while I do my woodworking. Something she’s encouraged me to do more of. In fact, a table much like the one I gifted Nate and Savanna for their wedding paid for this trip we’re on right now.
Her head tilts to the side as she contemplates me. “You’ve really thought this through.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“I have. And there’s nothing I want more than you in my space. All the time. Every single day.”
A smile breaks free across her face, and there’s a sudden change in the air as she flings her arms around my neck. She’s breathtaking. As she lights up, the sun behind her is sinking quicker and quicker, which casts shadows and creates colors in the sky beyond her that make her seem ethereal. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. With or without the Grand Canyon and its sunset.
“I am so proud of you, Liam,” she murmurs while tugging me down towards her. I bend easily to her will, my lips just barelybrushing across hers.
“Is that a yes?” I whisper.
“It’s a hell yes.”
It may not be marriage. It may not be babies. And those things may never happen. But I know that this woman will be mine for all my life. And I for hers.
Bonus Epilogue
Jordan
Thirteen Months After The Wedding…
Clap.Clap.Clap.Clap.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Quinn, Savanna, Hailey, and I bounce around the stage to the start of the new song, clapping, encouraging the crowd at 10-42 to join in while Luke, Nate, and Liam all stomp their boots to the bass echoing through the bar. All three of the men are wearing the same getup: sleeveless plaid button up shirts, unbuttoned halfway down, with blue jeans that make their asses look great, besides my brother of course, and cowboy boots. Topped off with cowboy hats.
We don’t need to liven the place up much for everyone to catch on—the place has been roaring with excitement all night—they know what’s coming. Who is coming.
The main attraction of the evening.
Wyatt Dalton.
The social media-loving rookie firefighter who has brought his swarm of fans out for the now annual “Save a Fire Truck, Date a Firefighter” auction. Tickets sold out within twenty-four hours thanks to Wyatt. Not that any of us are surprised—the man looks like he walked out of a photoshoot for the world’shottest cowboy.
