Page 116 of A Not So Merry Rescue
“You haven’t even seen the entire house yet.”
Willa faces me, her expression a mask of indignation. “I’ve seen enough. And there are a plethora of bedrooms for all the kids you’re going to impregnate me with. Plenty of land in the yard for a workshop. A huge front yard for your lights extravaganza. I could even use one room as an office until it’s needed for a bedroom.Ifit’s needed for a bedroom,” she corrects.
“What about the cabin?”
“Oh, we’re keeping it. Heck, maybe I can use that as my writing studio.” She shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Before you officially decide, let me show you the rest of the house.”
Not waiting for her answer, I take her hand, letting her poke her head in the bedrooms before leading her back downstairs to the office. The French doors are closed, but I push inside the empty room, having left this room up for her to design since it’ll be the place she’ll spend most of her time.
“This is the last room left to do. Any ideas?”
“It would make the perfect office. A desk there.” She points to a side wall. “A couch or chair there.” She points to the opposite side. “A bookshelf there.” Another wall. “Think of all the books I could write here.”
“So many,” I confirm, happy she’s so ecstatic about it. “What do you say you write the books as a Nicholas instead of a Gibson?”
I drop to one knee, holding out the box with the sparkling diamond.
“Beckett,” she croons, her fingers covering her lips. She steps closer, her eyes trained on the ring. “It’s exquisite, magnificent, radiant.” She raises her sight to meet mine, tears in her eyes. “So pretty.”
“Glad you think so.” I clear my throat. I drafted a proposal, but in the moment, I’m tossing it out the window and speaking from my heart. “Willafred Gibson, we were never supposed to meet, but am I elated that we did. You’re the other half of my heart, the missing piece in my life. When you crashed—literally—into my life last year, I admired your beauty, your quick wit, your grumpiness, but most of all, your abhor of my favorite holiday.” I can’t help the way my body quivers, but Willa’s giggles spur me on. “Being stuck with you that week was torture, in the best and worst ways, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Iwouldn’t change anything about how we met, how we fell in love, how we got here. I hope you agree our story is one for the books.” I pause long enough for her to nod before I continue. “What do you say we do life together every day from here on out? Be my wife?” I almost forget to add the question mark at the end, though I’m not opposed to telling her what to do.
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Duh, Beckett. Yes, of course, I’ll be your wife. Thanks for asking.”
I leap from the ground, enveloping her in my embrace, basking in the joy of her saying yes. I had no doubts she’d turn me down, but it feels damn good to hear her confirm what I’ve known for a while.
Slipping the ring on her finger, I rest my forehead against hers. “I like your idea of living here. I’m not good at sharing my space with strangers.”
“It’s not really my idea, is it?”
“Not even a little, Bundy. But I’ll let you take twenty-five percent of the credit. ‘Cause I’m generous like that.”
“Extremely. You’re the most generous person I’ve ever known. It will be my pleasure to be your wife, but even more to call you my husband. Even at my worst, you saw through to what’s underneath, made me face my demons, and didn’t even balk when I insinuated you might be a serial killer.”
“Not any of the plethora of times you said it,” I interject.
“I love you. For the rest of my life, I will love you every day. Even when you make me crazier than I am.”
“I do no such thing.” She balks at my insinuation, but I can’t blame her. I tend to push her beyond her limits of crazy but in a good way. Because I love her.
She studies the room again, seeing it from a different perspective of making it hers. Her gaze meets mine. “When can we move in?” Her phone rings, interrupting our conversation. “It’sClem. I’ll call her back.” She returns it to her pocket, but it rings again.
“Answer her. She must need something.”
“Merry Christmas!”
“Where are you?” Clem’s worried voice fills the room.
“Presently standing in my soon-to-be office, ogling my fiancé. You?”
“The cabin.”
“What cabin?”
