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Her eyes float closed for a brief second, then she opens them, bringing her hand to her heart. “You’re asking me to marry you and you’re buying this space for us?”
I nod. “I didn’t want to do it without asking you first. Since we’re a team and all.”
“A team,” she echoes, her eyes glittering.
“But yeah . . .” I’m past ready to hear what she thinks, what she feels. Desperate to hear that “yes” I’ve been dreaming about. “I was hoping you’d dig the idea as much as I do. So what do you think? You like it?”
HER EPILOGUE
Ruby
Do I like the idea?
I love the idea.
I want nothing more than to be his wife, his partner, a lifelong member of his team.
I’m floating above Earth right now. I’m soaring through all the clouds in the sky. My heart is bursting with happiness and joy.
Right here in a Brooklyn garage, my wildest dream is coming true.
Because I’ve known for a long time. Since that night at the beach last summer, really.
Known in the marrow of my bones and deep in every cell that he’s it for me.
He’s the one for the rest of my days.
The fact that he arranged for a studio, that he’s leaving behind his magical, marvelous life in Los Angeles for me, is staggering.
It’s better than rainbow glitter. It’s all the stars in the sky.
He shakes his head with a laugh. “Shit, I almost forgot the most important part.” He gets down on one knee, reaches into his pocket, and takes out a velvet box.
My heart rises from my chest and wedges in my throat. I am overcome.
“Ruby, my favorite person, my one, please say you’ll marry me and be mine forever? And let me be yours?”
I answer him the only way I can. “Yes, yes, all the yes!”
I fall to my knees, throw my arms around him, and kiss my sexy boyfriend who, one day soon, is going to be my sexy, sweet, forever love. My husband.
I cover him in kisses.
I can’t stop kissing him.
I kiss him for minutes that feel like magic.
Then I break the kiss, clasp his face, and whisper, “I love you so much. I can’t believe you’re moving back to New York for us. I can’t believe you’ve got a garage. And a studio. It’s just . . . too perfect.”
He grins, crooked and sexy and so very him. “Believe it. And let me put this ring on your finger.”
Giddy, I hold out my hand. He slides on a gorgeous ring featuring a dark orange stone surrounded by glittering diamonds.
“It’s an orange garnet,” he says. “It reminded me of the colors we used when we painted the mural in the old schoolhouse. That, and your smile. Like sunshine.”
I fight back tears. “It’s so lovely.” And it is. It takes my breath away, because it’s so special, and it’s from him.
We kiss some more, then we kiss again, and then we make out in the doorway between our two fabulous new spaces for good measure.
Many minutes later, we finally stand, and he leads the way into the garage, where a manila folder is waiting on the counter. “Guess I can sign the deal then,” he says wryly, nodding toward the folder.
Eyes wide, I snag the pen from the counter beside the paperwork and shove it at him. “You better sign it right now and keep your sweet butt here in Brooklyn where you belong.”
“I belong with you, sweetheart,” he says, his arm around me. “Wherever you are.”
And I feel the same way about him. One hundred percent—not a single doubt in my mind.
ANOTHER EPILOGUE
Ruby
A few years later
I bring the fork to my mouth, moaning around the crumbles of strawberry and goat cheese. Now this is pie. Decadent and delicious and mine to relish without shame.
Sweetie Pies is closed for the night, which means no customers around to judge the taste-bud orgasm sounds slipping from between my lips.
“This is sinfully delicious.” I groan again and sink deeper in the plush cushion seat at one of the new booths Gigi ordered last spring. Beside me, Mom makes a similarly contented sound.
Ah, to be comfortable and eating dessert with dear ones at the same time. Is there anything better?
Another bite. Another moan.
Gigi arches a brow from the other side of the booth. “Sounds like you’re making love to that pie.”
I’m aghast that she’d say that with the woman who gave birth to me at the table. “Don’t say that in front of . . .” I stage whisper, “. . . my mother.”
Mom huffs and rolls her eyes. “I figured it was sex that got you into your present situation, sweetheart,” my mom says, shooting a pointed look at my ginormous stomach.
Yes. Ginormous. Honestly, I could barely squeeze into the booth.
It’s the size of a yacht, and this yacht is about to dock in the harbor any day. But in the meantime, there are pies to eat.
