Page 113 of Juicy Pickle


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“What is this?” I ask.

Rhett waits, his eyes imploring me to do as he asks.

I think I know what’s happening.

I lift the center oyster from the tray. Rhett’s gaze follows my movements, and when I look up, I sense the intensity of the moment.

Gloria takes the tray as I hold the one he directed me to choose. These oysters have both shells, so I lift the top.

Inside the clean, shining shell is a diamond ring, a perfect oval surrounded by bright, clear gems. It’s enormous.

I glance up at Rhett’s face, but it isn’t there.

He’s dropped to one knee.

He reaches up to pluck the ring from the polished shell and takes my free hand. “Bailey, we’ve worked together for three years, but in all that time, we never surpassed the partnership we formed on the island when left all alone and forced to form an alliance to survive.”

He looks up at me, his dark hair falling across his forehead, the close-clipped beard he’s kept lately reminding me of how he looked after a couple of days on the island.

With the hut in my peripheral vision, and all the staff decked out in their vacation duds, I feel almost transported to the cruise.

“Bailey, this last year has been nothing short of magical. With you by my side, I’ve grown not only as someone in charge of a thriving company, but also as a man who needed to find his way.

“And I have found it. With you. So will you please make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?”

I swear I can hear the roar of the ocean and smell the salty air. I’m not sure how two people could go so far in how they feel about each other from then to now.

But I do know that I love him.

And I’ve known for a long time how he feels about me.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Yes, Rhett Michael Armstrong, I will marry you.”

His smile is huge as he slides the ring on my finger, then we realize it’s the wrong hand, and I move the oyster’s shell to the other hand and we switch the ring.

Everyone laughs and sends up a great huzzah and clinks their glasses. My daiquiri is returned, and this time I smell rum. Someone’s spiked it! Peter gives me a big thumbs up as Rhett and I intertwine our arms like brides and grooms do on their wedding day.

And we take a good, long drink to our future.

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