Page 86 of Past Tents

Clay took me through the basics, pulling me onto the middle bench where he sat and wrapping his arms around me tighter than they needed to be for a fishing lesson. As I let my head fall back against his chest, I decided that fishing was my new favorite hobby. “I don’t care if we catch any fish. Can we just stay here like this?”

Leaning in to kiss my neck . . . my cheek . . . my temple . . . he nodded. “As long as you want.”

Being careful not to tip the boat too much to either side, I turned so our lips met more squarely and Clay let the pole fall to the floor of the boat. The little craft had a nice wide bottom, so I wasn’t overly worried about tipping as I pressed against Clay’s hard chest and our kiss grew heated and deep within seconds.

Thethwack, thwackof canoe oars in the near distance stopped us from testing the balance of the boat under very different conditions. Clay’s cheeks were pink as he backed away and gave the paddler a wave.

“Okay, I think I’m ready to give it a go.” Still sitting beside Clay, I brought the pole up at an angle, gave it a sharp toss, and let the line go. The lure and hook went sailing out over the water and dropped cleanly in a few dozen yards away.

“That look okay?”

Clay’s head whipped around and he caught my smug expression before his smile broke wide open. He wagged a finger at me. “You’ve been holding out on me, honey.”

“I know how to fish,” I admitted.

I’d never seen such a big smile on Clay’s face. “You know how to fish,” he confirmed.

Nodding, I reeled my line in taut and gave it a little tug.

“What else do you know how to do?” he asked, hanging his arm around my shoulder and leaning back on his other hand to take in the view around us.

I didn’t want to admit that I hadn’t ever really thought about all that I’d learned to do in service of being self-sufficient, which didn’t feel any more like code for being alone. I’d simply done it because each new thing was a step in front of the one behind it. And here I was, self-sufficient and relaxing in the arms of someone who loved me for it.

I shrugged and planted a kiss on the warm skin of his shoulder. “All to be revealed in time.”

Pulling away so he could look at me, Clay gazed at my sun-heated face like I was a marvel or just very interesting. “You never cease to surprise me, Alexandra Dalbotten, and I will never stop loving that about you.” I tipped my head against his shoulder, so content as our little boat bobbed on the water, my fishing line glinting in the sun. “I’ll never stop lovingyou,” he said, more quietly, almost like it was a thought he didn’t realize he was speaking out loud.

That’s how it had become between us—a shorthand of thoughts and words that all pointed in the same direction. Me towardhim, him back toward me. I couldn’t imagine a life apart from Clay, and it astounded me every day to be able to affirm that thought.

“I love you too, Clay. So, so much.”

I’d spent so much time thinking about how to surprise Clay with my fishing abilities that it never occurred to me he planned to surprise me with something himself. So even when he moved off the bench to kneel in front of me, I still wasn’t getting it.

The boat drifted and turned, which caused the sun to hit my eyes, so I couldn’t quite see what Clay was doing, except that I had a vague sense of him reaching for something in the pocket of his shirt.

“You have a fish in there? Planning to slip it onto your line when I wasn’t looking and claim you caught something?” I teased.

“Exactly right. Gotta have a fish story to tell the grandkids.”

“Grandkids?” It was then that the boat turned enough that I could fully see Clay, who was holding out a ring box with a beautiful solitaire diamond ring that made my eyes bug right out of my head.

“Clay . . .”

He nodded. “Alexandra. I knew that once I had you, I wouldn’t be able to let you go. I knew it when I was seventeen. And I knew it when you walked into my yard with fourteen jackets. You’re my forever.”

After all the hours and hours I’d spent reading romance novels, soaking up every storybook proposal, dreaming of a moment like this, and never quite believing it could happen to me, I needed a moment to take it in.

And yet . . .

That was one moment too long. That was the moment a rather large fish took the bait off my line and began swimming away with the hook. My line whizzed from the rod, and on instinct, I let it race for a moment before rapidly cranking the spindle and fighting to reel the fish in. Standing up, I braced myself against the center bench, but the boat lurched to the side.

Clay jumped up to help, but that unsteadied us further. As I grabbed on to him, he caught the fishing pole falling from my hands and took over reeling the fish in as the boat listed even more to the side.

I’ll always see what happened next as if it played out in slow motion. The boat tipping farther. Me crying out and gripping Clay’s arm. Clay leaning toward the center of the boat to steady it. Me watching the ring box fly out of his hand and leaning toward it. The boat tipping the rest of the way and landing both of us in the water.

The moments after that were a blur. Kicking, swimming, bumping my head on the shell of the boat, worrying because Clay was underwater for what seemed like way too long.

And then he emerged. I’d never been so relieved to see a person’s face. He flipped water from his hair and looked me over. “You okay?”

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