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Harry dipped into his pocket and withdrew a tiny thing, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. With a bracing breath, he held up the little ring made from the grapevine tendrils he’d pulled from her hair on a long-ago December morning.
“Marry me,” he said.
A teary laugh bubbled up. “That wasn’t a question.”
“You’re right. Say yes anyway.”
The subtle torment she saw in his face nearly undid her. Silently, she held out her hand, unashamed by the stubborn traces of soil under her fingernails, or by the way her fingers shook.
She nodded, unable to speak.
“I need to hear it, Rowan.” A single tear raced down Harry’s cheek so fast she’d have missed it if she hadn’t been watching his face.
“Yes,Harry. I love you,” she said. “I loveus.”
“Us,”he echoed.
Harry’s entire body trembled as he slid the woody little ring onto Rowan’s finger. He pulled her tight against him and buried his face in the notch between her neck and collarbone.
And then, both of them laughing, he reached back and locked the greenhouse door behind them.
