Except…
“Whatisthis?” I stare at the pile of …dog treats.
I whip my head around just as Dom catches up. He’s got a strange new smile, like he’s trying really hard not to let on that this was all his idea.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You did that on purpose?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
I stare at him, hands on my hips as I stand up, holding the leash. “Is this your way of telling me you want a workout partner?”
He shakes his head. “Not exactly.”
“Then what?” I press, feeling more confused than ever.
He just stands there, mysterious, the corners of his mouth fighting a losing battle against a smile.
“Dom…” I hiss. But then I see it. Just beyond the little mound of dog treats, scattered across the sand, are rose petals. Not just a few, either, but a whole winding trail of them, the red vivid against the pale shore, the wind carrying them so that some spiral and tumble toward the foamy edge of the tide.
I blink, once, twice, three times.
“You—you did this?” I ask, voice cracking.
He gives a one-shoulder shrug, bashful and proud all at once. “Maybe.”
Cocoa immediately tries to eat one, of course.
I follow the trail. Every few steps, there’s a little cluster of treats, so Cocoa gets to be part of the party. When I reach the end, where the sand is a little damp and the shells are bigger, there it is—a question, spelled out in rocks, spanning at least ten feet in the sand.
Will you marry me?
I stop. I actually freeze, like in a cartoon, with my hand halfway out and my mouth open and my brain short-circuiting. Cocoa is still trying to eat the petals, and I’m just blinking.
“Nicole,” he starts, “you turned my world upside down from the moment we met.”
I’m unable to do anything but nod.
He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I came to LA looking for a team, but I found a home. Withyou. You made everything here make sense. Even when it doesn’t make any sense at all.” He digs into his pocket and retrieves a small velvet ring box. He flips it open, revealing a beautiful pear-shaped rose-gold engagement ring.
And I’m already crying, tears streaming down my face.
“Nicole Michelle Farrarah,” he says, as his own eyes grow moist. “Will youmarry—”
“Of course,” I blurt, before he even gets the question out all the way. “Yes, I will!”
He stands up, sliding the ring onto my finger, his hands shaking even harder than before. The instant it’s on, I launch myself at him, arms around his neck, and he catches me, holding me so tight I don’t think I’ll ever need another coat.
This iseverythingI could’ve ever wanted.
And so,somuch more.
Extended Epilogue
Nicole
Three years later…
I stand in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing out a blazer over my perfectly tailored black pantsuit.
