Page 47 of Pumpkin Spice & Orc Cinnamon Roll
And as I drift off on his shoulder, listening to the sound of pages turning and dreams unfolding, I think maybe that’s what love is supposed to feel like.
Like planting a bloom where no one expected it—and watching the whole damn village grow around it.
CHAPTER 24
DROGATH
I’ve closed multimillion-credit deals with colder hands than I have right now.
Not that I’m nervous, mind you—no. That would imply fear, and I don’t scare easy. What I am is… keyed up. Like the low hum of a storm right before the first strike. My hands are steady, my breath even, but my heart's thudding like it’s trying to pound down the damn door of my ribs, and I can’t for the life of me decide if that’s romantic or just wildly inconvenient.
The ring box in my pocket is empty. Intentionally.
Because Tessa doesn’t need a diamond. Hell, she’d probably make a face if I gave her one—say something likeThis looks like it costs the same as a greenhouse and gives me fewer herbs.Which is why I didn’t go near a jeweler.
Instead, I’ve got roots. Literally.
In a small satchel slung across my back, I’m carrying a young maple sapling—its roots wrapped in damp moss, its leaves still golden-orange from the early harvest. I picked it from the glade myself two weeks ago, the moment the plan started forming like a slow burn in my chest.
This proposal won’t be flashy. It won’t be scripted. But it will behers.
The path is lined. I made sure of that. Took a day off from meetings, bribed the twins with candied chestnuts and a gallon of cider to help me string golden leaves from the orchard trees all the way into the grove. I carved the lanterns myself—rough-hewn, sure, but the flame inside each one flickers warm and soft through little heart-and-leaf cutouts. The whole thing glows like the forest itself is leaning in to watch.
And now I wait, just past the bend, kneeling on one leg in a blanket of leaves that crunch and whisper every time I shift my weight. Which, unfortunately, is often.
I hear her before I see her.
That unmistakable laugh—half sunshine, half mischief—floating toward me on the breeze. It’s followed by light footsteps and the unmistakable sound of Tara whispering,Shut up, he said to give her space, not hover like a woodland stalker.Which means at least two things: one, she absolutely followed Tessa here, and two, she absolutely does not care that I asked hernotto.
Tessa rounds the bend a moment later, eyes wide, mouth parted in that littleohshe makes when something takes her by surprise. Her curls are tied back with a ribbon I’ve seen before—the same one she wore the first time we kissed for real, the kind of detail that shouldn’t undo a man but somehow absolutely does.
She sees the leaves first, then the lanterns, and then—finally—me.
Kneeling.
Holding the sapling.
Not a ring. Not a speech. Just this young, spindly tree with its roots wrapped up and ready for planting.
Her steps slow, then stop altogether as she takes it all in. Her hand covers her mouth, and for a second, I panic that maybe this was too much. Too weird. Toome.
But then she lets out a soft laugh that turns into something suspiciously like a sob, and she starts walking again—fast.
“Don’t cry yet,” I mutter as she gets close, my voice lower than I mean for it to be. “I practiced this in the mirror and everything.”
“Oh my gods, youdid not,” she breathes, eyes already glassy.
“Don’t worry, I looked terrifying,” I assure her, and that earns me a laugh that steadies my pulse just enough to speak.
I hold out the sapling.
“I don’t have a diamond,” I begin, voice rough, steady,mine. “Because you don’t need something cold and glittering that sits on a shelf. You need something that grows with you. Something that digs in. That stays.”
She kneels too—right in front of me—hands curled around mine, fingers brushing the moss at the base of the sapling.
“I made you promises once before,” I say, softer now. “And I broke them.”
She doesn’t flinch.
