His sincerity brought tears to her eyes. “Ash . . .”
He held her hand. “You want someone to believe in you and trust you. I’ve failed you twice when it counted most. Pride blinded me to the truth. But that doesn’t change the love I feel for you. It’s far from perfect, like me, but if you’ll give me another chance, I’m committed to you and a future together. What we have is special. I won’t let my pride or my father or anything else get in the way. I will stand by you, no matter what. You’re the woman I want next to me at the altar because I can’t imagine life without you in it.”
Jenna wanted to believe. She forced herself to breathe.
He continued, “Whether you forgive me or not, keep this frame to remind you that love is the most important thing. I realize that, thanks to you. Real love, mind you, not the glossy wedding-day love. You deserve unconditional love. An everlasting love, not one that just looks good in a frame.”
Her trembling hand clutched the charm against her heart. “Thank you for the present and your words. You made mistakes, but so did I. Seems like both our hearts needed to refocus. I may have forgiven you, but it wasn’t sincere. I hadn’t forgotten what happened. I kept dwelling on what could go wrong. But I’m letting all that go. God has humbled me with your gift. I forgive you. I hope you forgive me.”
“Always.” Ash’s gaze locked on hers. “I love you, Jenna. Truly love you. That much I have learned from all of this.”
Joy overflowed from her heart. “I love you.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. She gave in to the kiss, feeling as if she’d come home. The gentle kiss spoke of possibilities and the future.
Their future.
She backed away. “We have to go slow. Do it right.”
“I agree. We have the rest of our lives to be together. Let’s build a solid foundation that will last for the next fifty or sixty years.”
Jenna sighed. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too. And I know what should come first.” He pulled out his cell phone and held it out in front of them. “Smile.”
“A selfie?”
“You’ll see.” The phone clicked, capturing the photo. He typed on his screen.
She peered over his shoulder, but he wouldn’t let her see. “What are you doing?”
“Just a minute.” He showed her his phone. “What do you think?”
He’d uploaded the selfie to a social media account with the following caption: Back together again. This time for good.
Love swelled inside Jenna. Her patience to see what God had planned had paid off. She brushed her lips across Ash’s. “That’s about as perfect as it gets.”
THE END
Melissa McClone has always been a fan of fairy tales and “happily ever afters.” She holds a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University but eventually decided to follow her dream and write full-time. She lives in Washington with her real-life hero husband, two daughters, indoor cats, and a forty-eight-pound Norwegian Elkhound who thinks she's a lap dog. She also loves to ski, rock climb, and read.
VISIT HER ONLINE AT WWW.MELISSAMCCLONE.COM.
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To the One who causes His children to take up their tambourines and go forth to the dances of the merrymakers.
—JEREMIAH 31:4
Summers were made for weddings. Skye Foster had believed that for the past twenty years—ever since she was six and a guest at a distant cousin’s wedding. This July she would have a small part to play in the wedding of Charity Anderson and Buck Malone. A wedding Skye knew would be the most beautiful and romantic ever held in Kings Meadow.
When she closed her eyes, she could imagine it perfectly. The couple, standing in the gazebo with pastor, bridesmaids, and groomsmen, repeating their vows in the golden glow of an Idaho summer morning. The bride in white satin and lace, and the groom in a coat and tails. White folding chairs set up in the park, filled with friends and family. Women dabbing their eyes with tissues. The cutting of the many-layered cake. The music. The dancing.
Ah, yes. As far as she was concerned, no wedding was complete without dancing.
She imagined the band playing a romantic country waltz. She imagined herself stepping into the arms of a tall, lanky cowboy, feeling the warmth of his hand as it closed around hers. She imagined moving around the dance floor, the fluttering of her heart in time with their steps.
It was all so romantic.
Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head back and mentally tried to see the face of the cowboy who turned her around the floor with such expertise. But here, at last, her imagination failed her. In her daydream, there was nothing but shadows beneath the brim of his Stetson.