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She felt one with him.
With the earth.
Complete.
“I love you,” she said, smiling, and felt every word. From her feet to her ears, she loved Grant.
She opened her eyes and turned to look at him, but he wasn’t eye to eye with her.
He was kneeling.
The small crash of waves hit his ankle and thigh as he knelt there on a single knee.
“Hannah.” He looked up at her and gripped her hand in both of his. “Don’t let this end.”
She frowned down at him. “What?” she whispered.
“Don’t let this end between us.”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking of me,” she said.
His eyes were dark and bright. “I’m asking you to be mine forever. Marry me, Hannah. Because I don’t want to go back to a life without you.”
Her lips parted, and she couldn’t see anything past the face of the man before her. On a knee, wanting her forever.
No one ever stuck around for her.
“Grant . . . ,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go back to a life without you, either.”
A wide smile split his face. “Is that a yes, Miss Hastings?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He rose and cupped her face in both hands, kissing every breath out of her until all she could breathe in was him.
“I’m never letting you go now,” he said against her mouth. And for the first time ever, Hannah believed in a man’s words.
Chapter Twelve
Hannah walked through the front door of her home. She’d been practicing what to say to Grant since he’d left earlier. All day she’d thought of him. Of what the hell was going on. She didn’t have details and hated that his awful mother’s voice spun through her head.
Why was he in this sudden time crunch? He’d bounded into the bar looking crazed and lost and sad. Was something happening in his company? Was he losing everything, like his mother had said? He wanted Hannah to jump blindly, and she had no idea what to think.
Her heart was in pieces, because he had assumed she’d just follow him. Yet he wouldn’t entertain the idea of moving here. She’d worked her butt off for years, finally was closing in on owning the bar, and had an important event tomorrow that would allow her to do so.
And he dismissed it like it was some hobby.
But she loved him . . .
She needed to talk to him. To figure things out once and for all without feeling like she’d been ambushed at work. There was hope still . . . right?
She walked through the door, but the house was empty. It felt colder, too. Like his entire presence was gone.
The only thing that lingered was his memory. From the couch, to the kitchen table, she saw him among her things. In her home. Yet he was gone.
She found a note on the kitchen counter.
Hannah,
