“You doing that and not telling me where we’re going.”
He laughed, a low, warm sound that wrapped around me like a blanket.
“You’ll survive.”
I tried to glare at him. It came out closer to a smile.
His hand stayed right where it was, steady and warm against my thigh, anchoring me and unbalancing me all at once.
Outside the window, the world dimmed into twilight blue, and the road stretched ahead like an invitation.
And for the first time in forever, I wasn’t afraid of where it might lead.
I was only afraid of how badly I wanted it.
We drove deeper into the quiet stretch of countryside, the world narrowing into soft curves of road and shadows of trees arching overhead. The canopy above filtered the fading sunlight until it felt almost like twilight inside a cathedral made of branches.
Then Alex slowed the car.
Turned onto a narrow frontage road I’d never noticed before.
My breath caught when, after a few more twists, the trees suddenly opened into a clearing, and I saw it.
A blanket spread across soft grass.
A string of warm fairy lights woven between two tall oaks, swaying gently in the evening breeze. A little cooler. A small lantern. And the lake just beyond, the water catching the first streaks of pink from the setting sun.
My throat constricted.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Oh, Alex . . . ”
He put the car in park and was out before I could even fully take it all in. The passenger door opened, and he stood there, gentle, steady, a little nervous, offering his hand.
I slid my hand into his, and the warmth of his palm grounded me instantly.
“You did all this?” I managed, voice barely above breath. “You didn’t have to?—”
His smile softened, the kind that felt like it wrapped around my ribs. “I most certainly did.”
He helped me out of the car, steadying me even though I didn’t really need it or maybe because he just wanted to.
“Two single parents,” he said quietly, “don’t often find themselves kid-free for a whole night. It felt like something worth celebrating.”
The words hit me square in the chest, sweet, honest, unexpectedly emotional.
I blinked rapidly, trying not to tear up. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “Really . . . it’s one of the most beautiful things anyone’s ever done for me.”
His thumb brushed delicately along the back of my hand.
“I’m glad you like it,” he murmured.
We walked toward the blanket hand-in-hand, and every step felt like a slow, tender sort of falling.
He knelt beside the cooler and flipped it open.
“Wine or water?” he asked with a grin.
“Wine,” I said instantly, surprising even myself.
