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“Madame,” I call when she nears a pile of debris by the work site.
“She’s over here. Just came over to ask her daddy for a cookie,” Magnus hollers.
“Are you keeping biscuits in your pocket now too?” No sooner are the words out of my mouth when I realize what he said.
Daddy.
He’s the dog daddy? If so, I am here for it.
Magnus’s lips flicker. “Maybe one or two. Good to be prepared.”
Boo watches, slightly jealous at the attention Madame is getting. I go over to him and scratch behind his ears. “Don’t you worry, soon you’re going to help too. Mommy will make sure of that.”
I sense Magnus watching me from behind, his dimple shining.
One of the many things I adore about my relationship with Magnus is how naturally it flows. He’s sweet and thoughtful, and I like to think I am too, but we don’t get nitpicky about much of anything—big or little.
Some nights, he makes dinner at his place and I join him on the beach to watch the sunset. Other times, we sit at my picnic table with the dogs by our feet.
He sometimes joins me for my early morning swim, or we meet for coffee and walk along Quiet Cannon Beach like it’s been our routine for years. If I’m popping out to the store, I’ll grab cold cuts for his lunches. If he heads to town, he’ll return with a cookie or chocolate sample from Beans & Books for me.
It’s just so natural. So perfect.
I’m lost in Lallyland when Boo barks at the hole he’d been digging like he was recovering a lost relic. He spins circles around it, making himself dizzy.
“What is it, boy? Did you find an old biscuit you buried?”
Magnus and I hover over the hole. Something glints at the bottom.
“What did this big butterball find?” he asks, crouching down and retrieving a golden ring.
A wedding ring.
Our eyes meet and catch like a flame.
There’s no way this was an elaborate proposal plan because as amazing a dog as Boo is, there are yards and yards of beach. I don’t think Magnus would’ve buried a ring and then relied upon him to find it.
Yet, the idea has been planted, er, uncovered.
“Wow,” I say, looking at the petite gold band in Magnus’s big, rough hand.
“There’s an engraving on the inside.” He squints.
“Your glasses are at my place.” He only recently agreed to start wearing them and is always leaving them around.
“Thanks for reminding me that I’m almost forty.”
“Almost thirty-nine,” I correct.
We both chuckle.
Inside, I flip on the brightest light in my bungalow, but even with that, I cannot make out the inscription. However, I can feel the love shared by the couple on their wedding day.
“It’s like we found a secret, special part of someone’s history,” I whisper.
Magnus focuses and then lifts his gaze to mine. “I know what it says.”
I lean closer, inhaling his mountain-fresh scent.
