"And for dessert," he says, pulling out two pints of ice cream that make me gasp. Chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie batter.
"This is always sold out!" I say, cradling the pint like it's gold.
"May or may not have called in a favor with Mabel, who was very happy to help her favorite employee," Atlas shrugs, though there's a smug grin on his face. "She did read me the riot act for a bit, though—deservedly so."
My face softens and I squeeze his hand still in mine. "Atlas..."
He looks incredibly boyish when he asks, "Do you like it?"
"I love it," I say, glancing once more at the picnic, the scenery,the man. "And I love you."
Atlas' face transforms, and he cups my face in his hands, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.
"I love you, baby."
"Come on, I'm hungry," I say, making him laugh as I drag him to the blanket.
Atlas sits first, spreads his legs, and pats the space between them for me. I settle in, like I always do, and lean back against his chest as we dig into our food.
I keep the bag of chips between my own legs and feed him, as he places kisses on my neck in between bites, making me giggle.
He cracks open the wine, and we don't even bother with the glasses he packed, sipping right from the bottle as we watch the sun dip over Mercy Ridge.
"Do you remember Holly Whitman?" I ask, tilting my head back to see him grimace.
"I wish I didn't," he grumbles, his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "I don't know how many ways I could say I was in love and happy with you before she got the hint."
"She liked the challenge."
I can laugh about it now, but back then, it was irritating. She would do anything to get Atlas' attention in school, like lingering at his locker—which was really our locker. She'd walk next to him in the hallway way too close, even when his arm was firmly wrapped around my shoulders.
She would pass him notes that he would read and then immediately show me—little love letters about how she was better than me in every conceivable way and would show him one day.
Taylor would ball them up and throw them at the back of her head in class.
Desperate, Holly did damage to the engine of her car so she would have to bring it into Durant Auto, where Atlas worked on weekends.
She ended up messing with her car so badly that itwas beyond repair, and when Emmett suggested this was deliberately done to Mr. Whitman, Holly crumbled and confessed. She was grounded indefinitely and chewed out by her mom and dad.
From that day on, she acted like Atlas and I had the plague.
"Yeah, it turned out to be a very expensive challenge. And she still failed," Atlas says, pressing a kiss under my ear. "I was yours then, I'm yours now, and I'll always be yours, Wendy Durant."
I smile, turning my head to meet his lips with mine. I playfully growl and nip at his lips, "That's right, Atlas Durant."
He chuckles before asking me, his grin a little feral now. "You remember Jesse Mayhew?"
Jesse Mayhew was bold as brass our sophomore year, flat out asking me out every opportunity he caught me without Atlas, which was rare.
Even when Taylor tried to tell him that it wasn't going to happen, he wouldn't listen. I tried to reject him, rather politely, but his attempts became even more pushy until I finally snapped at him to leave me alone.
He called me a bitch and tried to spread around the school that I was a slut who came onto him.
Thankfully, no one believed him, and word eventually reached Atlas.
"I remember him coming into school one day with a very nasty black eye," I say, turning my head to see Atlas smug smile. "And I remember his very sincere, very scared apology."
"They just didn't get it," Atlas whispers, his arms tightening around me while his face softens. "How lucky am I?"
