Lynn explodes into laughter. Then she curls tighter against me. "We're never going to fight. We will politely, quietly disagree on occasion."
"And then I'll admit that you were right, and we'll carry on as before, blissfully happy."
She pats my shoulder. "Sounds good." Her head lifts. "The screen of your phone keeps lighting up. Should you check it?"
I give her a long, tender kiss before rolling over. Skimming the messages quickly, I'm distracted by how beautiful Lynn looks, her hair tangled around her in a glamorous auburn mess, but I get the gist.
"I don't mean to be nosy, but is everything okay?"
"Let's just say my brothers have some ideas they're excited about." My thumbs skim quickly across the screen, then I set the phone aside, face down.
"Do they need you?" Lynn asks. "I can go home if—"
I cut her off with a kiss, growling low in my throat. "Must claim woman," I grunt until she giggles.
Then her eyes grow serious. "Ansel." She hesitates, and I wait as she takes a slow breath. "Nobody's ever put me first before. Nobody has ever helped me speak up as much as you have. That means a lot to me."
"Good, because you mean everything to me, baby."
Throwing a blanket over us, I roll her into my arms and make sure she's totally comfortable. "Let's sleep for a bit. I think I'm going to have to claim my woman several more times before I go save the Oakley forest."
Her fingers caress the back of my ear. She always finds the perfect place to touch me.
"I love you, Ansel."
My heart lurches. It's the first time she's said it first. "I love you, Lynn."
Just as we're drifting off, she begins to giggle.
"What?"
She sputters through a snicker, "I can't believe that someday I'm going to be an official Oakley of Oakton! Oh, sorry – major spoiler alert. Although you did tell me already how it ends."
We laugh together for a long time before settling in.
Even though I've always been an incredibly lucky man, having Lynn both speak up more, and relax completely with me, feels like the greatest honor of my life.
EPILOGUE
LYNN
* Five Years Later *
“Oh, sweetie. The potting soil goes on the ground, not in your mouth.”
Thank goodness I'm a naturally patient person. Gardening with a toddler is a testing exercise in repeating myself a million times.
Over the past five years, Ansel and I have slowly been turning the far end of our massive backyard into a wildflower meadow, with small trees around the perimeter. Slightly raised beds hold vegetable gardens closer to the house.
It's our own slice of paradise, and we love it.
But a few weeks ago I made the mistake of letting our almost three-year-old son eat a leaf from a mint plant, telling him it came from the garden. Now Jaden has been trying to put everything in the yard into his mouth, from the dirt to the rocks to the buttercups.
At least he's been better at eating small bites of broccoli lately; all I have to do is tell him that it came from the back yard. Or, as he puts it, "Dirt, dirt, dirt!"
"Where is my adorable family?" Ansel's booming voice rings out as he comes around the side of the house carrying yet another small tree.
"Daddy!"
