Page 35 of Rescued By My Small Town Billionaire

Then she laughs—a breathless, almost disbelieving sound, as if the decision just knocked the wind out of her. “Yes, Mike. I’ll marry you.”

The crowd erupts into cheers, claps, and whistles, the entire town coming alive around us.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, standing and slipping the ring onto her finger, watching as it catches the glow of the lanterns overhead.

She looks down at it, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand, her face lighting up in a way that sears itself into my memory.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

I cup her cheek, forcing her to look at me, to really see me. “Believe it,” I say, my voice gravelly with emotion. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

She lets out a shaky laugh before throwing her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder.

And then I exhale, knowing she’s mine.

The moment I pull away, Becky is immediately surrounded. Lulu practically tackles her in a hug, Maggie Ann wipes her own tears away before pulling her in, and Ellie beams like she’s already planning the wedding. The town loves her.

Even the mayor claps me on the shoulder with a booming, “You did good, son.” I glance around, taking it all in.

This town—my town—has become ours, too.

And that? That’s something I didn’t even know I wanted until now.

She belongs here.

With me.

With us.

When the celebration dies down and the crowd disperses, I take Becky’s hand and lead her toward the flower shop, our steps slow and easy.

She’s been hugged within an inch of her life by nearly everyone in town. I gently tug her toward me.

“You wanna get out of here for a bit?” I murmur.

She nods with a sense of relief. We need some quiet and some time to let this moment sink in before the reality of wedding planning and congratulations fully sets in.

We weave through the town square, hand in hand, the fairy lights strung above casting everything in a golden glow. Couples chat near the gazebo, families laugh near the fountain, and kids chase each other.

Junction Falls has always felt magical at night, but tonight? It feels like a dream.

Halfway down the street, we pass by Giovanni’s Gelato Cart, the small vendor stand run by old Mr. Giovanni, who moved here from Italy years ago and never left. His hand-paintedwooden cart, parked at its usual spot near the café, is stacked with rows of colorful gelato tubs, the scent of fresh waffle cones drifting into the air.

I stop in my tracks. “I think this calls for a celebration.”

She laughs. “We just had a whole town square cheering for us, and you think gelato is the real celebration?”

“Sweetheart,” I grin, “every big moment in life should involve dessert.”

Rolling her big eyes, she lets me pull her toward the cart, where Mr. Giovanni greets us with a wide, knowing smile.

“Ahh, amore,” he says in his thick accent, clapping his hands together. “I heard the news! Magnifico!”

She flushes as I laugh. “Guess word travels fast.”

“In a town like this? Of course.” Mr. Giovanni winks, then gestures toward the array of flavors. “Tonight, for the happy couple, my treat.”

Letting her choose first, I watch as she scans the tubs—lavender honey, dark chocolate, fresh peach, salted caramel. They all look incredible. Her gaze lands on one in particular.

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