Page 222 of One Big Little Secret

Her hands flutter to her mouth as she stares down. “Is that—holy—are you serious? Right now?”

“If that’s a yes, I am.”

“Um. Oh my God. Okay. But I think you need to get down on one knee first,” she says breathlessly. She steps back, giving me space.

I don’t care that the grass is damp and it’ll probably stain my trousers.

A second later, I’m kneeling, popping open that little black box with my thumb.

The ring I picked is white gold with a sapphire stone, framed with diamonds because it reminds me of her. How she put the color back in my life, and all the money and people and magnetic moments will always be in her orbit, swirling around the true center.

“Salem Hopper,” I say, my voice too low. The ring was a spur-of-the-moment decision when I saw the jewelry shop in Nassau, and I’m pretty sure couples usually discuss this sort of thing in advance. If she’s not ready, I won’t blame her one bit, but I’m also not losing this chance to keep her.

Tonight, we’re all in.

“I love you,” I say. “I fell for you faster than I’d ever believe. I had it coming, even before I found out Arlo was mine. Fatereached down through years apart and shook me the fuck awake. So I want to do this family thing properly. I don’t want to wait. I want you as my wife. I want you where you belong—right by my side, forever.”

A painful moment passes.

Seconds feel like days, months, years.

Then she grins, wide enough to bring the sun out through the evening gloom.

“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes watering. Her bottom lip quivers. “Yes, ofcourseI’ll marry you, Grumpybutt.”

Music to my ears.

I’m laughing like a madman as I slide the ring on her finger before she can change her mind. It looks like it was always meant to be there, hugging her finger like a promise forged from our worries and doubts, remade into something beautiful.

There’s a deep satisfaction in my chest, this greedy caveman thing, seeing her wearing my ring.

She’s mine.

She’s all fuckingmine.

Inhaling roughly, I pull her into my arms.

“I might be many things, Lady Bug,” I tell her, my lips a whisper from hers, “but I’m no damn grumpybutt anymore.”

“You don’t kiss like one, I guess. Hard to argue with that,” she says, closing the distance.

Time stops cold as I claim her mouth, teasing what I mean to do to the rest of her later, the second we’re alone.

I don’t give a shit if my brothers are watching and jeering from the windows, or if Mom’s looking on with teary-eyed joy.

This is our moment and Salem Hopper finally belongs to me.

My wife.

My son’s mother.

My future, my fight, my lady since the day she was born.

My own personal lady luck, and the winning streak that’s coming will be one for the ages.

We kiss breathlessly, our hands pulling at our clothes high and low, until thunder rumbles overhead and we’re doused in a cool, sudden rain. It’s like the universe is urging us to get a room.

Sighing reluctantly, I break away and look up at the sky, then back at Salem. Her swollen lips, her big brown eyes, and the ring glinting on her finger that matches the gold flashing in her gaze.

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