He was almost to the door when her voice stopped him.
“Beckett?”
He turned.
She crossed the room in three quick strides and kissed him. It wasn’t like the kiss on the Ferris wheel—innocent and wondering. This was fifteen years of longing poured into a single moment. Her hands fisted in his sweater and his arms came around her, pulling her close, and for a long breathless moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.
When she finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
“I just wanted you to know,” she said softly, “that I’m already sure.”
Then she stepped back and gently closed the door between them.
Beckett stood in the hallway for a full minute, his heart pounding, a grin spreading across his face. Then he shook his head and walked to his own room.
Chapter Twelve
As Thanksgiving and Christmas passed, Marnie found that she and Beckett had slipped into an easy routine. She’d been surprised by how comfortable she was with him—that she didn’t mind when he showed up at her cottage unannounced, or when he’d call just to hear her voice before bed. She felt as at home at Hamilton House as she did at her own place, welcomed by Izzy’s cooking and the warmth of the big fireplace where they’d sit and talk for hours.
She didn’t feel like a second-class citizen or an imposter. She was Marnie Whitlock, and she could be or do whatever she pleased. It was an exhilarating discovery.
And it hardly bothered her at all that her visions had all but stopped. She could still read people if she wanted, or she’d get the occasional unwarranted glimpse into someone’s future. But there were no more visions that took hold of her by the throat and showed her what was coming in her life or the direction she was going. She hoped that meant everything was exactly as it should be.
Blaze had mentioned to both Hazel and Denny Trout that it was in their best interest to leave her and Beckett alone. The O’Haras owned the little cottage Marnie rented, and they also owned the place Denny lived in since the Caldwells had always been too cheap to provide a house for their foreman. It had only taken a mention that if anything else happened, they’d both find themselves looking for another place to live. Since then, Hazel and Denny had steered clear.
When Sloane had come home for Christmas, she and Marnie had reunited like no time had passed at all. They’d spent an entire afternoon curled up in the O’Hara living room, catching up on fifteen years of life while Simone plied them with hot cocoa and fresh-baked cookies.
“You look happy,” Sloane had said, studying her with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. “Really happy. Not the fake kind you put on for other people.”
Marnie had just smiled. She was happy. Happier than she’d ever been.
“So,” Sloane said, drawing the word out with a knowing grin. “Tell me about Beckett Hamilton.”
“There’s not much to tell. We’re taking things slow.”
Sloane nearly choked on her cocoa. “Slow? You’ve been in love with the man since you were sixteen years old. Fifteen years isn’t slow enough?”
“I mean it.” Marnie tucked her feet beneath her on the couch. “We’ve talked about it. Neither of us wants to rush into anything physical. We’re building something that matters, and we want to do it right.”
Sloane studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I respect that. And honestly? It sounds like Beckett.” She smiled. “That man has been pining after you for years. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
“I know.” And that was the miracle of it. For the first time in her life, Marnie trusted that someone would stay. That she was worth staying for.
Their courtship was old fashioned in a way that made her heart sing. Beckett took her to dinner at The Lampstand, where Simone fussed over them and sent out extra dessert. He picked her up for Sunday services at the little white church on the edge of town, and afterward they’d have lunch with his parents or the O’Haras. He brought her wildflowers he’d picked from the meadow and left notes on her windshield that made her laugh.
And yes, there were kisses. Kisses that made her knees weak and her heart race. Kisses that left them both breathless and wanting more. But they’d made a decision together—to wait. To build their relationship on something deeper than physical desire.
It wasn’t always easy. There were moments when the longing was almost unbearable, when she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him completely. But those moments only made their restraint more meaningful. They were choosing each other, every day, in ways that went beyond the physical.
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” Beckett had told her one evening as they sat on the porch swing at Hamilton House, watching the snow fall. “But I want to do this right. I want to marry you, Marnie. And when we finally come together, I want it to be as husband and wife.”
She’d cried then—happy tears that she didn’t try to hide. No one had ever treated her with such respect. Such honor.
“Yes,” she’d whispered against his lips. “Yes to all of it.”
They hadn’t set a date yet, but they both knew it was coming. And the anticipation only made every moment sweeter.
The O’Haras had hired her to do a full shoot of their family—an intimate picture book to hand down to future generations, including old photographs from when the ranch had first been built all the way up to present day. It was a massive project, and Marnie was working on it in her spare time between weddings and other jobs. She loved the work. Loved poring over the old images and seeing the family resemblances that stretched back generations. Loved capturing the chaos and joy of Sunday dinners and the quiet moments between.
