There was no way he’d forgotten, because we’d talked about it before going to sleep. It wasn’t like Jack to break a promise. I lay back again and gave it about ten minutes, then I sighed and threw back the covers. Maybe there was an emergency across the street?
I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and went downstairs. The front door was open, so I looked out on the porch. No one was there, although I noticed his truck was gone.
What the hell? It’s like he forgot all about me.
Grumpy that a morning in bed was not on the horizon, I went into the kitchen. He hadn’t even made coffee!
Angrily I poured the water and scooped the grounds, then crossed my arms and pouted while it dripped. The dumb old thing took forever, but Jack was funny about letting me replace things around here. Not because he was attached to them, but because he had a hard time letting me buy things for his house. “I live here,” I kept telling him. “Isn’t it my house too?”
He always said yes, of course it was, and hugged me in apology. Recently we’d had a long talk about redoing the kitchen, and when he balked at the cost of stone counters and tile floors, I’d put my foot down. “Listen. I am not trying to buy your love. I am trying to add a little bit of luxury to our lives because I like it and I can afford it and I’m spoiled, OK? You won’t let me buy Brad out, so at least let me buy the damn countertops.”
He’d grumbled about it but eventually caved, and a man was coming to take measurements this week. I was excited about it—I loved living up here with Jack, but I did miss a few things from my old life. And some high-end finishes in this beautiful old farmhouse could only make it better. I’d sweet talk him into things. I was good at that.
The smell of fresh coffee perked me up, and I turned around to reach for a mug. That’s when I noticed the note on the counter.
Had to run out. Back later. Can you collect the eggs?
I groaned. Not only had he forgotten about his promise, he’d asked me to do my least favorite farm chore. For some reason, I could not get comfortable with it. Those hens hated me, I could tell.
But I dutifully put on my boots, grabbed a basket, and trudged over to the coop.
The hens clucked at me as I entered. “Yeah, I know. Good morning to you, too.”
I checked the first box, and there was only one egg in there. I reached for it, scooped it up, and put it in the basket. The second box only had one as well, and when I went to place it next to the first, I noticed it had something written on it.
You’re beautiful.
It made me smile. I turned the first one over, and the smile widened.
Good morning.
The writing was undeniably Jack’s, and I looked around, expecting to see him standing there. He wasn’t.
I went to the third box and pulled out the egg.
Did you think I forgot?
I started giggling, my pulse picking up. He did remember! And look at him being clever and romantic!
Grinning, I reached into the next box and took out the egg.
I love you.
And the next…
I will always love you.
My hands were shaking as I reached into the last box in the row.
Turn around.
Gasping, I spun around.
And there he was—going down on one knee.
My heart stopped.
He opened a ring box and held it out, his expression surprisingly calm, his dark eyes glinting. “I’m not saying I deserve you, Margot Thurber Lewiston, only that I’ll keep trying as long as you’ll let me. I’ve never loved anyone or anything the way I love you. You brought everything good back to my life—you brought me back to life, and I want to spend it with you. Will you marry me?”
I stood there, literally shaking in my boots, while I tried to find the wherewithal to move, talk, breathe, anything. A few tears slipped down my cheeks. “Yes,” I squeaked, still clutching the basket.
“Want to put the eggs down, baby?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.
Nodding, I set the last egg carefully in the basket and put it on the ground. Then I moved closer to Jack and held out my hand, sobs working their way free from my chest. The ring winked at me from a black velvet Tiffany cushion, a gorgeous round solitaire set in a platinum band. My hand trembled as he slipped it on my finger.
I’d thought the ring that Tripp had chosen was perfect, but this one—this one—was my ring. Simple yet exquisite. Modern yet classic. Perfection.
“I love it,” I sobbed, unable to stop myself.
He rose to his feet, laughing a little. “I’m glad. The way you’re crying, I might have wondered.”
I threw my arms around him and he held me tight, lifting me right off my feet. “I love you,” he said in my ear. “I want this forever.”
“Me too,” I said, burying my face in his neck. My heart was so full it spilled over. “Forever.”
THE END