Page 30 of Oops I Fell For The Lumberjack Next Door

I look down. Briggs's flannel over my tank top. Sleeves rolled up. Unbuttoned enough to show the tank underneath. It's basically a second skin at this point.

"Irrelevant."

"He's the hero. The whole time. He was the hero."

"Yeah." My throat tightens. "He was."

That evening, after Donna's departure and the phone calls and the texts, Briggs and I sit on my porch. The one he built. Two chairs, table between them. Cold beers for him, cold water for me. The mountains turning gold at the edges as the sun drops behind the ridge.

Tinsel is asleep on the porch. Princess Buttercup is inside the office, visible through the window, judging us from her window seat.

"Hey." Briggs reaches over. Takes my hand. His thumb traces across my knuckles. "I need to ask you something."

"Okay."

He digs into his pocket with his free hand. Pulls out a small velvet box.

My heart stops. Literally. Full cardiac pause.

"I've had this for three months."

"Three months?"

"Bought it the week after you moved your stuff into my cabin. Knew then." He opens the box. A ring. Simple. A diamond on a thin gold band. Nothing flashy. Nothing oversized. Just right.

"My mom helped with the sizing. Your tortoiseshell ring from the nightstand. She traced it on a napkin when you were in the bathroom."

"Donna has been co-conspiring on this for three months?"

"She threatened to propose for me if I didn't do it by August."

My eyes are burning. "Ask me."

He shifts off the chair. One knee on the porch he built from his own trees. My hand still in his. Tinsel's ear lifts.

"Marry me, Margot."

The words are steady. His hand is steady. Everything about this man is steady, has been since the day he pulled my leg out of a broken porch and told me the joists were gone. He's never wavered. Through the grudge. Through the fight. Through three days of silence with his porch light burning into the dark. He planted himself and he waited, the same way he plants a sapling and waits a decade for it to grow.

"Yes."

"I had a speech."

"You can give the speech after. Yes. Obviously yes."

The ring slides on. Fits perfectly, because Donna Holloway’s napkin technique is apparently flawless. He stands, pulls me up, wraps both arms around me. My face against his chest. His mouth in my hair.

"I was gonna do this at the farm. During the cut your own season. Propose to you in the middle of the Noble firs I planted the year before you moved here."

"That's actually beautiful."

"Mom said the porch was better. Something about full circle."

"Your mother is always right and it's infuriating."

He laughs. Low, warm, the sound vibrating through both of us. Then he pulls back enough to look at my face. Thumbs wiping the tears I'm not even trying to hide.

"You came here to get your life back. That first day. Merlot in the cup holder, cat in the carrier, broken porch, and me standing in the trees being the last person you wanted to see."