Page 127 of A Bossy Proposal

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair, his steady heartbeat calming my racing heart.

I feel the slight grimace he makes as his injured shoulder takes some of my weight, but he doesn’t let go. He wraps his arms around me, and we stand in silence.

Only when I’m ready and composed do we walk back to the car hand in hand.

The drive is quiet. West leaves me with my memories.

The car stops again. I look out of the window, confused.

“West...this is...”

My parents’ home stands before us, exactly as I remember it. The white clapboard siding, the wraparound porch where I used to read for hours. It’s exactly as it was before Vincenzo stole it from me.

It’s the place I tried to buy when my inheritance was returned to me, but the owner refused to sell.

“How?” I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away.

West squeezes my hand. “I bought it for you. It’s yours again. All of it.”

I turn to him, speechless. He’s given me back a piece of my past, a tangible connection to my parents and the life we once had.

I stare at West, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. “How?” I say again, as I choke back more tears. “She refused to sell it to me.”

“Because it was no longer her home to sell.” He smiles, that confident grin that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. “I'd already bought it for you. I made the owners an offer they couldn’t refuse. It’s your wedding gift,” he adds.

I shake my head, overwhelmed. “It’s too much, West. This is—”

“Nothing is too much for you,” he interrupts, cupping my face in his hands. His thumbs gently wipe away the tears that travel down my cheeks.

I look back at the house, memories flooding through me. The porch swing where Dad used to tell me stories about his childhood in Italy. The flower beds Mom tended with such care as she sang to herself.

It’s all here, waiting for me.

“Can we go inside?” I ask hesitantly, almost afraid it might disappear if I get too close.

West’s smile widens. “Of course, princess. It’s yours to come to whenever you want to. We can bring our children here for vacations. Anything you want.”

“You’re so perfect.”

“Only since you came into my life.”

Before I can take a step, he scoops me up into his arms. I let out a surprised yelp, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

“Carrying my bride over the threshold,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s tradition, after all.”

As we approach the front door, I notice the keys dangling from West’s fingers. He manages to unlock it without putting me down, pushing it open with his foot.

As West carries me over the threshold, I gasp. The interior is nothing like I remember, yet it feels instantly familiar. Gone are the dated furnishings, replaced by sleek, modern pieces that somehow capture my essence perfectly.

“West,” I breathe, taking it all in as he sets me down gently. “This is...how did you know what I like?”

He shrugs, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I pay attention.”

I wander through the living room, running my fingers along the soft fabric of a plush sofa. It’s exactly the shade of blue I’ve always loved. The coffee table is a beautiful piece of reclaimed wood, like the driftwood I used to collect on the beach.

But it’s when I turn to the far wall that my breath catches in my throat. There, arranged in a stunning collage, are photosof my parents. Dozens of them, capturing moments throughout their lives. And right in the center, larger than the rest, is their wedding picture next to ours.

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