He takes a shaky breath and drops to one knee.
“I want the late nights. The cold coffee. The stretch marks and toddler tantrums. The burnt cookies and dance parties in the kitchen. You. I want all of it. Forever.”
He opens the box.
“Will you marry me, sunshine?”
The room holds its breath.
I forget how to exist.
Then I laugh. A big, watery, ugly cry laugh, because this is insane and perfect and Knox Knightly is on one knee in the middle of a restaurant with his dog wearing formalwear.
“Yes,” I gasp, nearly sobbing as I fall into him. “Yes, yes, yes.”
The room explodes.
Gracie bursts into tears and shouts, “Yes! That was beautiful!”
Dee screams like she just won the lottery. Nova whistles. My mom starts sobbing into a cloth napkin. Tuck barks so loudly that someone claps.
Knox stands and swings me into his arms, spinning me once while everyone claps and cheers, and a server accidentally sets off the champagne pop too early and soaks a nearby table.
It is a disaster.
It is perfect.
It is exactly, wildly, us.
And as Knox kisses me in the middle of the madness, I realize this isn’t the end of our story.
It’s the beginning.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Knox
Seven Months Later…
The Marrow is quiet in the way it only ever gets after the dinner rush has died and the last pan’s been scrubbed.
Steam still curls in lazy spirals from the dish pit. The scent of garlic and caramelized onions clings to everything—skin, hair, memory. It’s the kind of night that settles into your bones. Exhausting. Satisfying.
Home.
Josie’s perched on a milk crate near the walk-in, ankles crossed, her hair a mess, and her cheeks flushed from standing too long. She’s wearing my old maroon hoodie, stretched out around the swell of her belly. It’s ridiculous how much I love seeing her like this, glowing, laughing softly at something Gracie said on her way out, her palm unconsciously rubbing circles over where our children are currently practicing jiu jitsu.
I lean against the counter and watch.
Damn, she’s beautiful. And mine.
She looks up like she can feel me staring. Smiles. “What?”
“Nothing,” I murmur, stepping toward her, tugging the hood over her head just to see her eyes crinkle. “Just thinking about how smart I was to fall for the girl who set my kitchen on fire.”
She laughs. “I never did that!”
“Hmm, not how I remember it.”
