Page 25 of My Surprising Valentine

His low laugh rumbled against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “Good. Because I’m already hooked on you.” He pulled back, his laugh fading … replaced by an intensity in his gaze that made my breath hitch. “You mean everything to me, Hannah. I can’t imagine life without you by my side.”

My heart swelled at his words, tears pricking at the edges of my vision. I wanted to believe him—to believe in us. “I want that, too,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “But are you ready for that?” My voice shook with equal parts hope and fear as I spoke. It was terrifying to want something so badly.

He silenced me with a kiss, slow and tender, as if sealing a vow. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Tears spilled over as I smiled against his lips. “Then you have me. Always.”

The rest of the night was a blur of touches and kisses, whispered promises, and shared laughter. When Max made love to me again, it was slower, gentler, as though he were memorizing every curve, every breath, every heartbeat.

And when we finally fell asleep sometime around four o’clock in the morning, tangled in each other’s arms, I knew this man, this love, this life was always meant to be mine.

Epilogue

I foldeda cozy sweater and placed it neatly in my suitcase beside a pair of well-worn jeans. Reaching for my favorite sneakers, I tucked them into the corner of the bag. The clothes I’d chosen were practical and comfortable, perfect for a two-week anniversary trip to France.

A lot had changed since Max and I had walked hand in hand into Melody’s rehearsal dinner, pretending to be a couple. It hadn’t always been easy, but it had been more than worth it.

And it was certainly never boring.

A year after we first confessed our feelings for one another, Max had proposed during a quiet dinner at our favorite restaurant. We were married the following spring in a simple, intimate ceremony surrounded by family and friends.

Not long after our wedding, the hospital where I worked closed its maternity ward, leaving me unexpectedly unemployed. At first, I’d panicked, unsure of what to do next, but Max had encouraged me to see it as an opportunity. When a better position opened up at New England General—where Max worked—I took the leap and hadn’t looked back. Working at the same hospital meant we often crossed paths during the day,sharing lunch in the cafeteria or quick kisses in the hallway. The commute had been long at first, but within a few months, we decided to sell his monstrosity of a house and move closer to the city.

Now, we lived in a beautiful condo in Boston’s Back Bay, where I didn’t have to wear three sweaters just to keep warm in the winter. In addition to lower heating bills, it was also a short drive from the hospital and within walking distance of our favorite coffee shop and restaurants. We were even talking about getting a cat!

Life with Max felt like the happiest kind of whirlwind. Even in the chaos of our new life together, he had a way of grounding me, and I never lost sight of how lucky I was to be able to call him mine.

And now, as we prepared for our anniversary trip, I couldn’t help but marvel at how much had changed—and how much more there was to look forward to.

Percy stood in the doorway of mine and Max’s bedroom, one hand gripping the frame as if she needed it to steady herself. Her eyes widened in dramatic disbelief as her gaze flitted over the clothing I’d laid out across my bed, her lips parting in horror like she’d just stumbled upon a crime scene. “What,” she finally said, her voice dripping with judgment, “are you doing?”

I glanced up, frowning. “Umm, packing? You know, for the trip I leave for tomorrow? ”

She swept into the room like a hurricane, her impossibly high heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she pointed her perfectly manicured hand accusingly at my open suitcase. “That is not packing, Hannah. That’s … that’s a cry for help.”

I snorted, grabbing another pair of jeans and folding them. “These clothes are perfect for sightseeing. Comfortable, practical?—”

“Comfortable? Practical?” Percy clutched her chest as if I’d insulted the gods of fashion. “You’re staying at the Four Seasons Hotel George V. Not going antiquing in the Berkshires. Where are the silk blouses? The tailored trousers? The impossibly chic scarf that will make everyone think you’re secretly French?”

I shook my head, laughing, as I placed a soft wool sweater I’d crocheted on top of the folded jeans. “I’m going to be walking around the city for miles—in winter—exploring museums, eating way too many croissants, and drinking too much wine. I don’t plan on walking any runways.”

“But you couldlooklike you were,” she argued, snatching the sweater from my suitcase and holding it up like it had personally offended her. “This? In Paris? Non, ma chérie. Absolutely not.”

Rolling my eyes, I plucked the sweater out of her hands and tucked it firmly into the suitcase. “Percy, I’m not trying to impress anyone. Max loves me just the way I am, and I’m not going to ruin our trip by wearing uncomfortable clothes.”

She groaned and flopped onto the bed, letting out a long, gusty sigh like the drama queen that she was. “I adore you, but this isPariswe’re talking about. You don’t just go there dressed like … like an American tourist.”

“But Iaman American tourist,” I said, arching an eyebrow that dared her to argue with my logic.

Percy sat up, her eyes gleaming with determination. “But you’re also Hannah Carlisle-Bennett, wife of the dreamiest doctor in America, and you’re celebrating your wedding anniversary in the fashion capital of the world. I won’t let you embarrass me by wearing sneakers to the Louvre.”

I crossed my arms, smirking. “First of all, these sneakers you’re hating on are all the rage right now. If they’re good enough for a duchess, they’re good enough for me. And second of all, the Louvre is massive, and I’m not wrecking my feet just to look fancy for the Mona Lisa.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re ridiculous,” I shot back, grinning. “But I love you anyway.”

Percy tapped a finger against her lips, clearly scheming. “Fine. Keep your sneakers, but at least let me add a few things to your suitcase.”

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