Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I pull in a shuddery breath. “You’re going to make me cry.”
“Good,” he says, his eyes shining, too, as he reaches up, taking my hand. “You always cry when you’re happy. Or angry. You don’t cry as much when you’re sad. You get quiet and thoughtful and just…let it be. You don’t fight or rage or hide. You accept that sometimes sadness comes, and that’s okay. It’s one of the things I love about you. One of the hundreds of things I love about you.”
I fight to swallow past the tightness in my throat, tears slipping down my cheeks as he adds, “I love your smile and your laugh and the way you’re never stingy with either. I love your generosity and your kindness and how you refuse to take shit from people looking to abuse either one. I love every piece of you—warrior, scholar, lover, thinker, and an artist who brings beauty to everything she touches. Especially people. Especially me.”
“You are beautiful,” I whisper, my voice wobbly with emotion. “You’re beautiful and wonderful, and you always love me just right. So, get over there and get that ring and put it on my finger. And I’m never, ever going to take it off.”
He laughs, swiping at his cheeks. “Yeah? So that’s a yes?”
I nod. “A hell yes.”
He surges to his feet, swooping me up and kissing me hard and sweet and just right. We kiss our way around the edge of the strawberry patch to Ceres, who I learn is an authentic eighteenth-century artifact from Rome, and part of my engagement present.
I’m so overcome by the revelation—and the way the ring fits so perfectly on my finger—that I nearly pull Nix down into the mud to thank the goddess of fertility right then and there.
“We can’t. The strawberries are just babies,” I pant, pulling back to brace my palms against his chest. “We might crush them, and Makena will be so sad.”
“You’re right,” Nix says, as breathless as I am. “I don’t want to kill baby strawberries. I don’t want that shit on my conscience.” He arches a brow. “Besides, we have our own garden now.”
My lips curve in a slow smile. “We sure do. A garden with two entire rows of recently sewn eggplant seeds that would be the perfect place to—”
“—ride my eggplant,” he cuts in, making me giggle.
“Yes, exactly,” I hiss as he starts for the gate. “What about the hose?”
“I’ll take care of it later,” Nix tosses over his shoulder. “The sprinklers really are broken. Parker texted this morning to ask me to come water the plants a couple of times while they’re gone.” He pauses at the gate, turning back to me. “And just like that, I knew my moment had arrived.”
“I love it,” I say. “I love you, and I can’t wait to be your wife.”
“June?” he asks, hope and joy dancing in his dark eyes. “We elope as soon as the season is over?”
“Hell yeah, we do,” I agree, giggling again as he scoops me up, kissing me through the gate, across Parker’s front lawn, to where my SUV is parked.
My brilliant man took a cab here, so we’re able to drive home together, and Nix can respond to Parker and Makena’s group text demanding—So? News? Do we have news?! Something you’d like to share with the class?—with a big smiley face and a thumbs up.
Nix: Strawberries watered. And we’re engaged.
Makena: YAY!!
Parker: Double YAY! And how about our baby cucumbers? Unmolested?
Nix: Totally.
It’s the truth. Thirty minutes later, however, our eggplant beds can not say the same.
But they aren’t even babies yet. They’re just seeds snuggled beneath the earth, waiting for sun and water and magic to bring them to life. They aren’t bothered by our naughtiness in the corner of the garden, where I ride my gorgeous boyfriend until he comes hard enough to lift me into the air as I pulse and spiral around him.
Scratch that, not boyfriend.
Fiancé.
And soon…
“Husband,” I murmur as Nix carries me inside, my legs wrapped around his waist. “I really like the sound of that.”
“Wife sounds pretty fucking amazing, too. Fuck, Char, I didn’t think anything could make me hornier for you, but that ring on your finger…”
He kisses me up to our bedroom where we make love again, lingering so long in the afterglow that we barely have time to shower and throw on clothes before rushing to meet Elly and Grammercy.
But they don’t seem to mind that we’re a little disheveled and Nix’s hair is still damp. They’re both overjoyed by our news and insist on ordering champagne at the first food stall. Elly has a small glass, too, despite her seven-month baby bump, assuring Grammercy her doctor said it was fine, and we have a wonderful evening, eating our way through my hometown.
I swear, New Orleans is celebrating with me, spoiling us with perfect weather and a magical full moon that shines down on us as we walk to meet Beatrice at the club for more celebrating.