Page 106 of Those Two Words

epilogue

JOHANNA

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

“Did you want another glass of wine?” Patrick asks as I pop a grape into my mouth.

“Mm, maybe later. I think I’ve eaten too much cheese.” I’m leaning up against the small sofa as Patrick lies sprawled out in front of me on the brown, fluffy rug. His back is to the wood stove, its bright orange flames the only light source in the small, log cabin.

When Dex mentioned one of his cabins had a last-minute cancellation, we snapped it up and headed north the next day. A weekend getaway is exactly what we need after the last couple of months, and this is the perfect location to hide away in the woods, not another soul to be found for miles.

“That’s impossible.” He laughs and picks up a puzzle piece from the few remaining in the pile between us. We’ve been dipping in and out of completing the puzzle but keep getting distracted by one another. Only Patrick Sadler would have the ability to make jigsaw puzzles sexy. It wasn’t even an hour ago that he stripped me bare and fucked me on all fours in front of the fire. Now we’re acting like a civilized couple, sipping on expensive wine and grazing on a cheese board.

Life is great.

I’ve lived with Patrick for almost six months now. He asked me to move in with him when he found out my rental agreement was renewing each month, but I argued it was too soon. He argued we’d already spent enough time apart.

Touché.

After two months of standing my ground, I finally relented. Lottie took to our relationship and my moving in with ease. Poor Patrick, on the other hand, is officially outnumbered, and I think he’s started sprouting gray hairs since Lottie and I have teamed up.

I stretch my legs out in front of me and wiggle my toes in my fuzzy socks.

“You’re getting bad at this with your old age, these ones are easy.” I point toward the errant pieces waiting to find their homes, and wave in the general direction they need to go, too cozy and relaxed to move from my spot.

“You finish it, then,” he says. I sigh and lean toward the puzzle, easily slotting in two pieces. He distracts me for a second when he stretches his arms above his head, revealing that line of dark hair that runs low on his taut belly. He really does get better at everything with age.

That need for one another hasn’t lessened; if anything, it grows stronger with each day. Now and again, we will climb into his truck, park it off the beaten track, and steam up the windows some more.

“Where’s the fun in that?” I ask. Excitement hits me when I see we only have two pieces left to place. I slot the first one in easily, but when I look at the final piece, something doesn’t look right. I pick it up and turn it in my fingers. “I think this is from a different box. All the colors are wrong.”

Patrick peers over at my hand and rolls his eyes before letting out a tsk. “This one is brand new. I’ll have to take it back to the store.”

“Oh my god, it’s happening again. I’m cursed when it comes to jigsaws.” I groan and throw my hands over my face.

He chuckles softly as I hear him searching around for the missing piece, but I’m still too busy being dramatic to help him look.

“What about this one?” he asks, his voice closer now.

“No, I give up, you put it in. I’m officially done with jigsaws.”

“Love, I don’t think this piece is for me,” he says softly.

Opening my eyes, I look up, and as my vision refocuses, I find him kneeling in front of me. His eyes shine bright and warm like the fire glowing behind him, but it’s the love firing off him that sets me alight.

It’s only then I notice he’s down on one knee.

My eyes dart from his face to his posture, before widening. That’s when I spot his outstretched hand between us. Between his fingers is my puzzle piece. And taped haphazardly to that piece, is a sparkling rose gold ring, with a large solitaire diamond sitting in its center.

I stare at it, then at Patrick, and then at the ring again. I’m dizzy from the speed my eyes move from him to his hand, but when I settle back on the man in front of me, I get light-headed for a whole other reason.

“Wha-what’s that?” I ask, pointing a shaky hand at the ring.

“It’s for your hand, silly,” he says as he reaches out and takes the hand I’m pointing at him with—that just so happens to be my left. “I thought I could place it here.” He taps my ring finger, before placing a kiss on the same spot. “And then I can continue to make you happy for the rest of your life, only this time you’ll be my wife.”

I think I’m crying; I don’t actually know. No, I am.

“Will you marry me, Johanna?” Patrick says, his fingers stroking along my wrist. He brings his other hand up to cup my cheek and leans his forehead against mine. “C’mon, love. What’ll it be?”

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