Page 147 of One More Chapter

Penelope Jayne Barker has made me nervous many times throughout the forever we’ve been building. At one point, I was afraid I would never get the chance to make things up to her. Now that we’ve been able to repair the brokenness and really dig into the life we both never could’ve imagined for ourselves, I need to make it permanent.

What better place than the one where it all began?

It was no small feat to go to Rafe and the team to add Florida to her next book tour. This is her first book in a new series, so we’ve been spending our entire Christmas break flying around the country. It was easy enough to make Boston a two-day tour stop on the bookends of Christmas so that we could spend it in the home we’ve built together, but my ass isreallylooking forward to no longer being on a plane in a few short days.

That doesn’t take away from the immense pride I have for my girl.

Pen has been nothing short of amazing.

In the time that she has had to dedicate fully to her books, I have never seen her with more determination, more grit, and, okay, more agitation around her due dates. She settled into a routine pretty quickly, and has only really used the lock on the office door once—after she asked for help with the mechanics of a steamy scene, and then banned me from the room after declaring, “I’ve got it!” Let’s just say, I was about five seconds away from hammering down the door with my dick.

Right now, she’s ahead of her current deadline, allowing us to spend the entire holiday break just focusing on us—while she’s not doing book press. We’ve basically turned her tour into a bunch of different city dates—being tourists, ordering room service, and doing cannonballs into the hotel pools. Well.I’mdoing cannonballs. She’s on the sidelines with her Kindle until I drag her in to play mermaids.

Florida was my surprise. I doctored up the schedule so that we have an entire day and evening here, and even made sure the hotel Rafe booked us in is right near our beach. She has to know something is up—we’ve talked rings and marriage and forever since she moved her last box intoourhome. I just needed the right backdrop.

As we squish along the sand, flip flops dangling from our fingertips, surrealness waves over me like a cloud of smoke. Three years ago, we stumbled onto this very beach after hopping a fence, looking over our shoulders like we thought security would come and get us. Now, the only security I need is right here in the palm of my hand. To steady me. To lift me. To love me in my faults—which I haveplentyof.

“Are you cold, baby? I can give you back your sweatshirt?”

“Hmm?” I tilt my head down toward her.

“You’re shaking.”

Penelope dips her chin with a knowing smile, squeezes my hand, and lifts our hands between us as we walk. I tug our hands to my lips and kiss the back of hers.

“No. Keep my sweatshirt. They’re all on your half of the closet anyway.”

She giggles, making the velvet box in my pocket sing.

“Okay. We’re here.”

We stop at the scene of the crime. The same corner beach chair in a sea of others beneath the moonlight on the water’s edge. It takes her a moment to realize, but when she does, her free hand darts to her mouth, tears shining in her eyes.

She does that more. Lets herself cry. Lets her emotions be a little more transparent. Lets herself feel.

“Well… Are you cold?” I ask, the confidence in my voice suddenly vanished.

I settle into the chair and open my arms. She has no words, only nods furiously, both hands disappearing into the sleeves of my giant sweatshirt as she joins me on the chair, cuddling against my chest.

Just like that night. Only this time, there is no wondering if she can be mine. No fears about the future. The only obstacle in our way is my ability to choke out the question we both know she’ll say yes to.

We lay there in the silence for a few moments, letting the winking of the stars speak for us. The same constellations that peered down at us the first time in the December sky.

“This chair has seen some things,” she mumbles.

I laugh against the top of her head, scrubbing my hands slowly up and down her back.

“Sure has. Heard some things too.”

Pen pushes up from my chest with furrowed brows and a fight in her eyes.

“Anthony James, Itoldyou we would never speak of the echoing!”

“It isn’tmeyou need to tell!” I guffaw. “Say something to the night crew who was hosing down the patio!”

Hitching my thumb behind me toward said resort patio, I watch Penelope deflate against my chest, grumbling in straight opposition to the way she cuddles against me.

“You know, the last time we were here, I thought I’d found my forever,” she says softly.

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