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He slides his arms around me and pulls me close, wrapping himself around me like he’ll keep me safe from the world. My tears wet his shirt until I pull myself together and glance up at his face.
“I’m sorry.”
His hand makes slow sweeps down my spine while the other tilts my jaw up so he can kiss me. “Me too, baby.”
“I should have told you what was bothering me.”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t have run away.”
Sebastian’s eyes flash. “No ma’am. And we’ll have words about that later, when your eyes aren’t leaking.” The words seem innocent enough, but the way Sebastian says them is a dark, sensual promise. He presses his lips to mine once more and says, “I’m sorry too, Georgia. I’m sorry I pushed you. Sorry I made you think I wanted to go back to Clare. Sorry I proposed to you the way I did. You deserve better than that.”
I shake my head, not wanting his apologies. “Where’s the ring?”
With a grunt, Sebastian shifts his hold on me and reaches into his front left pocket, pulling out that fateful ring. “Dinky little thing. When—if—we get married, I’ll get you something better.”
I laugh—a thin, watery sound—and take the ring from his fingers. Then, twenty-five years after the first time he proposed, I slip it on the third finger of my left hand.
When I glance up to see Sebastian’s reaction, his jaw is clenched and his eyes are shining. I kiss the side of his neck, his ear, his jaw. “Yes,” I tell him.
“‘Bout time,” he replies, and then he crushes his lips to mine.
After that, Sebastian teaches me a very memorable lesson about me running away. It’s a sweaty, panting, ass-reddening lesson. And Sebastian is a very good teacher.
EPILOGUE
GEORGIA
We marrya week later at the courthouse in Heart’s Cove.
When I suggested us tying the knot right away, I was still panting and sweaty after Sebastian and I had our—ahem—reconciliation at my house, our bodies still consumed with the aftereffects of pleasure, a mirror of the way he’d proposed to me earlier.
Sebastian’s brows had shot down. “You don’t want a big wedding?”
I shrugged, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Already had one of them. They take forever to plan, and we’ve already waited two and a half decades to do this.”
His face cleared, and his arms wrapped around my waist. “No sense in hangin’ around.”
I grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”
So, that’s how I ended up marrying my high school sweetheart on a Tuesday, twenty-five years after he first proposed.
Christine and Matt flew down from Washington for the ceremony, looking radiant and happy for the two of us. Piper, unfortunately, couldn’t get away from Colorado, but she begrudgingly accepted my recounting of events and said it sounded like Sebastian had changed for the better if he was willing to stick around and leave Clare in his rearview mirror.
I said we’d both changed. She only grunted noncommittally, but she texted me the morning before I made Sebastian my husband to congratulate me, promising to celebrate when we saw each other at Thanksgiving.
Now, as we exit the courthouse flanked by Simone and Christine, who acted as our witnesses, Sebastian threads his fingers through mine and smiles down at me. “Wife,” he says.
“Husband,” I reply. A thrill pierces my stomach as the word leaves my lips, confirmation that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. His hand sweeps down my back, over the satiny fabric of my ivory dress. It hits me just below the knees and has a pleated skirt with a fitted bodice, long sleeves, and a high neckline. It covers a lot of skin but hugs close to my body and wouldn’t exactly be considered conservative. It’s been sitting in my closet for six years, unworn…almost like I’d bought it for this exact purpose.
Sebastian looks dashing in black pants, a white shirt with no tie, and a shiny new pair of black cowboy boots. He smiles down at me and presses a soft kiss to my lips, sending shivers rushing down all the way to my toes.
“You two are so cute,” Simone croons. “Come on.”
She leads us to a waiting SUV, and we all pile in. Sebastian and I sit in the back, with my head leaning on his shoulder. Christine takes the passenger seat while Simone gets behind the wheel.
“Where are you taking us?” I ask, floating dreamily on a cloud of happiness.
