Here, I belonged.
“I should go,” I told my mom as I heard Sam’s truck pull into the driveway. “He’s home.”
“Give him a hug from me. Chloe, I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. You found your person.”
Sam walked through the front door as I was hanging up the phone, his hair mussed from the wind and his shirt smelling like the bar — a combination of beer, wood polish, and something essentially him that I’d grown to love.
“How was your day?” he asked, the same question he asked every evening.
“Good. Routine checkups mostly. The Morrison cows are doing well.” I stood and moved toward him, studying his face for any signs of proposal nerves. “How was yours?”
“Busy. Had to order new glassware. Apparently, college kids don’t understand the concept of holding onto their beer mugs.” He pulled me into his arms, and I melted against him the way I always did. “Missed you today.”
“I missed you, too.”
Tomorrow is my birthday. Tomorrow, Sam Mitchell is going to ask me to marry him.
Chapter 2
Chloe
Choosing a dress shouldn’t be this difficult.
I’ve narrowed it down to three – the soft blue sundress Sam loves, the black dress I wore to the county fundraiser gala last winter, and the emerald green one I bought last month but never had occasion to wear so far. Tonight called for something special. Tonight, Sam was going to propose.
My birthday had already been perfect. I’d woken up to fresh peonies – my favorite – on the nightstand with a card in Sam’s handwriting:Happy birthday to my favorite person. Can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight. Love, S.He’d made his signature blueberry pancakes for breakfast, complete with whipped cream and a candle for me to blow out.
When I’d arrived at the clinic, there had been more flowers waiting – a stunning arrangement of roses and lilies with a card that read:Because you deserve beauty in your workspace too. Love, S.
Sarah, my receptionist, had squealed with delight, and even my more reserved vet tech Jenny had commented that Sam really knew how to make a woman feel special.
Then, mid-morning, a delivery driver had arrived with an enormous cake – chocolate with raspberry filling, my absolute favorite – and a note:For my amazing girlfriend and her incredible team. Happy Birthday, Chloe. Love, S.
Sarah had insisted we all take a break to have cake, and even Mrs. Patterson, who’d been waiting for her cat’s checkup, had joined in singing Happy Birthday. It had been one of those spontaneous, joyful moments that made me love this town and this life even more.
Sam had been attentive and romantic all day, texting me sweet messages between my appointments. He seemed excited, maybe a little nervous in that endearing way men get when they’re planning something big.
Now, as I held up the green dress against myself in the mirror, studying the way the color brought out my eyes, I thought about how lucky I was. This one. It was new, unworn, perfect for starting our new life together. The fabric felt smooth and expensive against my skin as I slipped it on, and I took extra time with my hair, letting it fall in loose waves around my shoulders instead of my usual practical ponytail.
When I finally made it downstairs, Sam was waiting in the living room, dressed in the navy button-down shirt I’d bought him for Christmas. He looked handsome, and yes, a little nervous – but it was the good kind of nervous. Proposal nervous!
His eyes lit up when he saw me, traveling from my carefully styled hair down to the emerald dress and back up again. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice warm with genuine appreciation. He crossed the room to kiss me gently. “Absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you.” I smoothed the green fabric, fighting the urge to grin like an idiot. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
“I can’t wait to celebrate with you tonight,” he said, pulling me close again. “I want tonight to be perfect.”
Perfect.There was that word. The word that meant proposals and new beginnings, and the rest of our lives, starting tonight.
“Today has already been perfect,” I said honestly. “The flowers, the breakfast, that amazing cake you sent to the clinic. Sam, you made me feel so special.”
His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes in that way that always made my heart flutter. “You are special. You are everything.”
You’re my everything too, I thought, although I didn’t say it.
“Ready?” he asked, offering his arm with an almost old-fashioned gallantry that was pure Sam.
“Ready,” I said, taking his arm.
