“I told her we needed her. And she told me that Eoin is a liar about strawberries.” I smiled and pulled him toward the back door. “Now, I believe we were in the middle of something?”
We walked back out into the night. The air felt clearer now, the heaviness in the kitchen replaced by a strange, fragile sense of peace. We reached the gazebo, and the string lights seemed to glow a little brighter against the dark.
Patrick turned to me. The nervous pacing was gone. The energy had settled into something steady. Sure.
“I had a speech,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “About finding light in the dark. About second chances. About how you brought me back to life.”
“I like speeches,” I said, stepping into his personal space.
“Forget the speech.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He didn’t drop to one knee; he just stood there, looking at me eye-to-eye, equal to equal.
“Theresa,” he said. “My life was a schedule of grey days until you walked into it. You’re the smartest, bravest, most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. You love my children like they’re your own, and you let me love yours.”
He flipped the box open. Inside sat a sapphire, dark and deep as the ocean, surrounded by a halo of diamonds. It was breathtaking.
“I want to be part of that life,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I want the noise. I want the burning toast and the football games with no rules. I want to build a life with you that’s so full it spills over the ocean.”
He took a breath, his blue eyes locking onto mine, stripping me bare.
“Marry me. Let’s make a beautiful mess of this life together.”
Tears pricked my eyes—happy tears, free of guilt, free of the shadow that had trailed me for so long. I thought of Marco, and I knew, with bone-deep certainty, that he wasn’t looking down with jealousy. He was looking down with relief that I wasn’t alone anymore.
“Yes,” I whispered. Then louder, for the stars and the garden and Mrs. Kowalski in the kitchen to hear. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, the weight feeling like an anchor in the best way.
Then he pulled me in, and his kiss tasted like the future. It tasted like hope. It tasted like home.
“We’re going to need a bigger car,” he murmured against my lips, his hands tangled in my hair.
I laughed, a sound that bubbled up from my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck. “We’re going to need a bus.”
“I’ll buy a bus.”
“I love you, Patrick McCrae.”
“I love you, Theresa Carideo.”
Above us, the lights flickered in the breeze, and somewhere inside the house, a floorboard creaked as one of our ten children rolled over in sleep. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t tidy.
It was everything.
Epilogue
THERESA
I ranmy hands down the front of my ivory silk dress, trying to convince my stomach to settle.
“Mom, Austin took my crown!” Paris burst into the bedroom, her junior bridesmaid dress already sporting a smudge that looked suspiciously like chocolate.
“I didn’t take it!” Austin yelled from the hallway. “Rome hid it!”
I took a breath, counting to three. “Paris, honey, we have three backups. Remember? We planned for exactly this.”
Paris crossed her arms, her almost six-year-old face scrunched in righteous indignation. “But I wantmycrown. The one with the blue ribbons.”
Shelly appeared in the doorway behind her, already dressed in her matron of honor gown, holding the missing headpiece. “Look what I found hanging in the bathroom.”
