Page 67 of Falling For Alaska

How did I get so damn lucky?

Alaska

“Hey, you,” he says in a breath.

“Hey,” I murmur, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him. Jack tastes like coffee and comfort, like a fireplace you curl up in front of in the middle of winter. His gaze devours me, and it reminds me of that time I saw a hawk in the mountains.

“I’ve g-got good news,” he says, following me into the living room. My tiny kitchen on the left is already covered with the delicious meal I made for us after work. Little wings flutter in my belly at the same time my scars tingle. Isn’t it crazy how they respond to every thought? Triggered by everything that could knock me off balance.

I used to hate it, how my body betrayed me, whispering, careful, Alaska. Remember what you did. Remember what you deserve. But after he kissed them so many times, my heart could’ve exploded, they are now a blissful reminder. A scar telling me I can forgive myself. That I have the choice.

“Tell me,” I say as I sit on the couch. Jack remains standing in front of me, his black long-sleeve T-shirt and police pants doing things to me I wouldn’t dare say out loud. A smug smile appears on his face as he kneels on one knee and takes my hand in his, stroking my knuckles with his rough thumb.

“I’m staying,” he rasps, stealing both our breaths. A squeal escapes me, and my other hand flies to my mouth to contain the joy. Jack chuckles, and the sound tastes like whiskey and snow melting on my skin.

“You’re staying,” I repeat, my voice so low it’s barely audible.

“For g-good,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean…if you st-still want me to.” His jaw clenches, and my heart does the same. Of course I want him to stay. I haven’t changed my mind, and I never will.

“What, when, what do we do now?” I ask, blushing as the news lights up every atom of my body.

Marriage. Kids. The dream.

It’s happening.

“Hey,” he says softly, his palm catching a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen, “nothing happens if-if you d-don’t want it to.” I catch his hand and drop a soft kiss on the inside of his palm.

“I’m so happy, Jack. I don't know how to—” I breathe out, “I never thought this would ever happen.”

“Me neither,” he admits, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. My arms circle his neck as his palm draws slow circles on the small of my back, the other hand roaming aimlessly across my bare legs.

“Won’t you miss your family? The city?” I ask.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “They can c-come visit. They’ve got their own lives now. And I’m not going anywhere away from your sweet f-f-face,” he adds, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t follow you there,” I say, meaning more than just the place.

“That’s alright.” He squeezes my hand. “I wouldn’t have asked you to. I know st-staying here matters to you.” He pauses, then smiles. “And b-besides, I’m good here. It was time I got away from the city.”

“Then…” I hesitate, taking a breath. “I think it’s time you meet my parents.”

“I was gonna t-tell you the same thing,” he says, flashing me an uneven smile that makes my insides clench.

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “My mom wants to cook for you a thousand dishes. You have no idea.”

“B-b-bring it on,” he replies, mock-serious. “I’m ready for anything.”

I glance over my shoulder at the dinner I’ve prepared. “I made Parmesan spaghetti with chicken. Is…is it okay?”

“Is it okay?” He frowns. “As long a-as you like it, I’ll like it.”

“No, I mean, I want…” I frown. “Do you remember on our hike, when you said whoever ended up with me would be lucky because I’m a good cook?” I blush because there’s still so much I want to learn. “At that time, all I wanted to say was that I wanted to cook…for you. That I would’ve done it every day, for someone like you. Someone who’d appreciate it, who would see the value in it,” I explain. “I want…I want to be the best homemaker I can. So no telling me something is good if it isn’t, okay?”

Jack chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I like when you’re b-bossy like that,” he grins, rubbing his thumb over my cheek. “It’s p-perfect. I’m good with everything you do, as long as it m-makes you happy. That’s my real answer.” His tone falls low. “Truth is, I w-want it all with-with you, Alaska.” His gaze burns into mine, his grip tightening as his hand grazes the side of my throat. “Marriage, kids, the house, and all the things you could dream of,” he vows. “You at home or-or wherever you wanna b-be, and me coming back to you every d-d-day of our lives.” My heart flutters. I nod and nod again, biting my lip at the sound of his words, answering every silent prayer I’ve ever whispered.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not, Alaska. I promise.”