“Actually,” Debbie interrupted, suddenly grabbing Jeremiah’s hand and tugging him backward, “I think we should stand right here. This is the best spot. Right here.”
She positioned him exactly where I needed him to be, directly in front of the arch with the mariachi music providing the perfect romantic soundtrack. Then she looked at me expectantly, her eyes bright with excitement.
This was it.
The moment I’d been planning and dreading and dreaming about for weeks.
I reached into my pocket with hands that felt like they belonged to someone else, pulled out the brown paper package, and dropped to one knee.
The world seemed to go silent, except for the music and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. Jeremiah’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open as he stared down at me.
“Theo?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Jeremiah,” I began, my voice barely steady, “I . . . I need you to know what you mean to me. Tous. I need to say this to you, and—” I swallowed hard. “I just need to say this, okay?”
“Uh, sure,” he said, cocking his head exactly how Cuddles did when she heard unfamiliar words from her humans.
“Jer, you walked into our lives by mistake. It was the best accident that ever happened to me. Somehow—and I may never know why—it made everything make sense. You turned a house into a home, made my daughter believe in fairy tales again, and showed me that love doesn’t have to be scary if you find the right person to be scared with.”
The mariachi music swelled softly behind us, and I saw tears starting to gather in Jeremiah’s eyes.
“I used to think that loving someone meant risking everything, that opening my heart was just setting myself up for loss, but you . . . you taught me that love isn’t about the risk of losing someone. It’s about building something together that’s stronger than fear.”
I had to reach up and wipe sweat from my face before continuing. Jeremiah’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“I want to wake up every morning knowing that whatever chaos the day brings—whether it’s five-year-old dragon emergencies—”
“Six-year-old, thank you!” Debbie chirped.
We both grinned. “Six-year-old dragon,” I corrected. “Or Mrs. H’s bagpipe concerts or Cuddles having opinions about our mail delivery—we’ll face it together. As a family.”
My voice cracked on the last word, but I pressed on.
“So, Jeremiah Mikel,” I said, holding out the brown paper package with hands that were finally steady, “this delivery is for you.”
Jeremiah looked down, read the label with his name and my address, then squinted and cocked his head again.
“It’s a package? Did that come today?” he asked.
I couldn’t help snorting. He was so fucking Jeremiah it hurt.
“Open it, dummy!” Debbie stage-whispered, bouncing on her toes with barely contained excitement.
“Debbie,” I chided gently, though I was smiling through my terror, “be nice to Willie Wee.”
With shaking hands, I held out the package to the man who’d changed everything—who’d turned a quiet life into an adventure, who’d made my daughter feel safe enough to love freely, who’d somehow convinced me that forever wasn’t something to be afraid of but something to reach for and grasp with both hands.
“Jeremiah Mikel,” I said, my voice stronger than I’d expected, “if you’ll ever open that damn package, I have a question to ask.”
Epilogue
Jeremiah
Iwasn’t entirely sure how I found myself standing on the cold marble floors of the Fulton County Courthouse. My palms were sweating, and my heart hammered against my ribs in a rhythm that was becoming painfully familiar.
The bustle of attorneys with their briefcases hurrying past and the grinding of the legal system’s daily machinery should have been background noise, but today every click of heels and every rustle of papers felt magnified.
Beside me, Theo fidgeted with his tie—the same navy blue one he’d worn to Debbie’s adoption hearing—while his other hand failed to smooth down his hair in a nervous gesture I’d grown to find both endearing and slightly concerning when it appeared more than once every thirty seconds.
