Every dream she told me about in my kitchen two years ago, we're living it together.
"This is incredible," she breathes, not turning around. "Boone, I can't believe we're really here. That this is real."
"It's real, sweetheart." I move to stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist.
Two years. Two years of learning each other. Fighting and making up. Navigating the complications of merging our lives. Building something that works despite, or maybe because of, all the reasons it shouldn't.
The ranch has thrived. Sierra's investment paid off better than any of us expected. We've expanded operations, hired help, modernized equipment. For the first time since Frank died, Promise Ranch is profitable. Stable. Everything he wanted it to be.
Which means I can do this. Can take three weeks away to travel with the woman I love. Can give her the world she wanted without abandoning the promises I made.
"What time is our dinner reservation?" Nicole asks.
"Not for a while." I press a kiss to her temple. "We have time."
"Good. I don't want to leave this spot. Ever." She turns in my arms, smiling up at me. "Thank you. For this trip. For making my dreams come true. For being patient with me while I figured out what I actually wanted."
That first year was hard. Nicole struggled with feeling trapped, wondering if she was giving up too much by staying in Blackwater Falls. We fought about it. Cried about it. Almost broke up twice.
But we worked through it. She started taking online business classes. Got promoted to manager at the saloon. Started talking about maybe opening her own place someday, a restaurant or bar that could bring something new to our dying town.
Her dreams evolved. Became less about escaping and more about building. About creating something meaningful in the place she'd always called home.
And we traveled. Every few months, we'd plan a trip. Long weekends in Seattle. A week in New York. Two weeks last Christmas in Japan.
She got to see the world. I got to see it through her eyes. And we both learned that home isn't a place. It's the person you choose to build a life with.
"You don't have to thank me," I tell her. "This is as much for me as it is for you. I love seeing you happy. Love exploring with you. Love—"
I stop. The quartet is ready. The violinist gives me a subtle nod.
"Love what?" Nicole prompts.
"Turn around."
She does, and her eyes go wide.
Four musicians in formal attire stand on our private terrace, instruments ready. The first notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D begin to play—her favorite piece. She made me listen to it a hundred times, told me it made her think of love and promises and forever.
"Boone?" Her voice shakes. "What's happening?"
I take her hands, holding them tight. "Two years ago, you called me when you needed help. And I came running. Not because you were Colt's friend. Not because it was the right thing to do. But because the thought of you being hurt, being scared, being anything less than safe and happy, was unbearable."
Tears are already forming in her eyes.
"I'd wanted you for three years before that night," I continue. "Thought I'd never have you. Thought you were too young, too smart, too everything for someone like me. But you proved me wrong. You always prove me wrong."
"Boone—"
"Let me finish." I squeeze her hands. "These past two years have been the best of my life. Watching you grow. Watching you figure out who you are and what you want. Fighting with you when you're stubborn as hell. Making up with you after. Waking up next to you every morning and still not believing you're mine."
The music swells. The sun is sinking lower, painting everything in shades of orange and pink.
"You made me believe in love again," I tell her. "Made me believe that some promises are worth breaking for the right person. That staying doesn't mean being trapped and leaving doesn't mean abandoning what matters. You taught me compromise. Patience. That the world is bigger than the ranch, but the ranch will always be part of who I am."
I release her hands and drop to one knee.
Nicole gasps. Both hands fly to her mouth.
