“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to feel pressured to do—”
“Willa.” I stood up swiftly, capturing her face with my free hand. “It’s cold and I’m worried I’m going to drop this ring and then we’ll have to spend the rest of our day digging for it in the snow instead of celebrating in the backseat of my truck. So I’m going to try this again.”
She sniffled, a smile stretching across her face as I went back down on my knee.
“Marry me?”
“Yes.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She laughed as a tear dripped down her cheek.
I stood again and wiped it away before taking off the mitten on her left hand. With steady fingers, I slid the delicate band to the base of her knuckle. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off the ring. The center diamond sparkled in the sunlight. So did the halo of smaller white diamonds surrounding it.
The jewelry store would be receiving a monthly payment from me for a few years and I’d be delaying the purchase of a new truck, but it was worth it. Whatever I could give her, I would. Even kids.
Willa looked up from the ring. “I love you.”
“Love you too, babe.”
She smiled wide and a squeak escaped her lips. She giggled again, then launched herself into my arms.
I scooped her up, slamming my mouth down on hers. Then I kissed my fiancée long and deep. I explored her mouth with my tongue and nipped at her top lip. I sucked at the bottom. By the time we broke apart, we were panting, our breaths forming a frozen cloud around us.
“Do we need to take these ornaments down?” Willa asked, her eyes dark with heat. “Or can we celebrate?”
I grinned. “Fuck the tree. I’ll come back up tomorrow.”
“Okay, good. Let’s go.” She jumped out of my arms and started jogging down the trail.
I laughed, following close behind to catch her if she slipped.
The second we spotted the truck parked at the trailhead, Willa stripped off her coat. Her hat came next. She was bent over, untying her boots as I dug the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the doors.
She hopped into the backseat first and I followed, slamming the door to keep out the cold. Then we spent an hour fogging up the windows before we got dressed to drive back home.
As I pulled my truck onto the highway, Willa laughed out her passenger window.
“What?”
“I was just thinking.” She smiled at her ring, then looked over. “When I was seventeen, I wrote in my diary that I was going to marry you one day.”
My heart skipped. “You did?”
She nodded. “Seventeen-year-old Willa is doing a victory dance right now.”
“Do you still have your diary?”
“Yeah. They’re in a box at my parents’ place. Why?”
“Research.” I took her hand and kissed her knuckle, right above her ring. “Need to see what other dreams seventeen-year-old Willa had for her life.”
I’d start with those, ticking them off one at a time, until all her dreams had come true.
Two and a half years later . . .
“What is this?” I asked Jackson, standing in front of a painting on the mantel above our fireplace.
“A present from Thea. I asked her to make it for me and she dropped it off this morning.”
“But it’s my birthday.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Why are you getting presents?”
Jackson chuckled and wrapped his arms around me, pulling my back into his chest. “Don’t worry. You get presents too.”
“That better be plural,” I mumbled.
He kissed my neck. “When have you ever gotten the shaft on your birthday?”
I smiled and reached behind me, palming the growing bulge behind his zipper. “I get the shaft every year on my birthday.”
He laughed again, his voice booming in the living room. “This is true.”
“Speaking of . . .” I turned around and went right for his belt. But before I could get it undone, he grabbed my wrists.
“We don’t have time.”
“Come on,” I begged. “Real quick.”
He shook his head, grinning before he kissed me. “We’ve done ‘real quick’ three times already. If we go again, we’re going to be late.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. My hormones were out of control, but we had to get going. “Fine.”
I was five months pregnant and wanted sex all the time. And if I wasn’t having sex with Jackson, I was in search of food. My appetite was twice what it normally was. I could eat as much as Ryder, which was saying something.
At twelve, he’d had an appetite. At almost fifteen, it was nearly impossible to keep the fridge stocked. Jackson and I joked that the money I made from working as Logan’s assistant in the winters all went directly to groceries.
“Ryder is staying with Hazel tonight,” Jackson reminded me. “So as soon as we get home, I’m all yours. But we can’t be late to your own birthday party.”
“Okay.” I huffed. “Let’s go.”
“I need to grab your presents, plural, then we can go.”
I waved him off, then turned back to the painting.
It was beautiful, of course, because Thea was a gifted artist.
She’d painted me from behind, standing in front of the lake. My hair was down and a few pieces were blowing in the wind. You couldn’t see my face, which I was glad for.
It was weird enough seeing it from the back.
“Ready.” Jackson came from down the hall, carrying one gift bag and a wrapped box.
“Can I peek?”
“No way.” He shook his head as he walked through the living room.
I took one last look at the painting before following. “So why did you ask Thea to do that painting?”
“I wanted one. She was bitching about needing a new art project one night at the bar so I told her to paint me a picture of you.”
“Why?”
He looked over his shoulder and shot me a why do you think look.
“Does it have to be on the mantel?” It was a beautiful piece, but on the mantel, it was the focal point of the living room. I didn’t like to be so front and center.
“Yes.”
“How about the hallway? Or our bedroom?”
“No.”
“Jackson, be reasonable. It looks like you’ve built a shrine up there for me.”
He ignored me, walking to the front door and setting down the presents on the little table I’d dragged him through five antique stores to find.
We’d spent the last year remodeling our house. I moved out of my tiny apartment above my parents’ garage right after Jackson proposed. We saved up for a year and then hired a contractor to come in and remodel. There was a month where the place wasn’t livable, so Jackson and I had stayed over the garage, for old times’ sake, while Ryder camped out with Hazel.
But when the contractor finally finished the bedrooms and kitchen so we could all move back in, it was perfect.
Everything was updated and bright. We’d gotten new windows and floors. I’d even gotten a brand-new kitchen to make the guys breakfast every morning.
For the most part, Jackson and Ryder didn’t care at all about the things I’d done to decorate. Ryder had done his own room, but the rest of the house had been mine.
But slowly, I was losing control over the mantel.
The first thing Jackson insisted on putting up there was our wedding picture. Since it was an amazing picture from an amazing day, I didn’t argue.
The summer after Jackson proposed, we got married in the same church in Kalispell where my parents had gotten married. Then we drove back to Lark Cove and had a small reception at Hazel’s lakeside cottage.
The picture on the mantel was of me and Jackson dancing under the twinkle lights in the tent we’d rented. My dress had a simple silhouette, fitted from the bodice through my hips. It was white with a lace overlay that went up to my neck and ended in delicate cap sleeves. My hair was curled and hanging loose down my back.
I loved that picture, especially seeing Jackson all dressed up in a tux. I would have put it on the mantel had he asked for it or not.