“Yeah, maybe he’d live nine hundred years.”
I laugh—really laugh—and it loosens something tight in my chest.
“What about a girl?” I ask next.
“You first.”
My grin grows, mischievous. “You’re not gonna like it.”
His eyebrows raise. “What? Why not? Tell me.”
“Eliana or Naomi.”
“Oh, I like them.”
I blink. “Really?!”
“Yeah. I thought you were gonna say something super weird or something.”
“Ha. No.” I laugh. “What’s your name?”
He shrugs. “I don’t really know. I just always liked the name Grace. I know it’s sorta common.”
“No, that’s cute though.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “We could do Naomi Grace.”
“Yeah”—he nods slowly—“that’s perfect. All we need to do now is make her.”
I laugh again…but this time it dips into something a little fragile in my chest.
“Or him,” he adds quickly. “I certainly don’t care.”
I soften, turning toward him, taking in the face I’ll come home to every day in just a few weeks now. “And that is why I love you,” I murmur.
He smiles, leaning over to kiss me—slow, warm, steady. A promise without saying any words at all.
When we finally step out of the truck, the night is cool and quiet, the stars stretched across the sky. Mason grabs my hand as we walk toward the house, his thumb brushing my skin in a comforting rhythm.
Chapter 9
Mason
It’s finally wedding week.
Megan and I get married in two days, and for the first time, it’s really starting to hit me.
Today was my last shift as a “single” man.
The next time I walk into that station, my badge is gonna feel a little heavier, because I’ll have someone waiting for me at home. A wife. A ring on my hand. An even bigger reason to come back safe.
I’m ready for the time off too. I need it. A few days to sleep in, to breathe, to not answer calls or alarms. Just me and her. A beach. Sunburns and sand.
Tomorrow’s the rehearsal dinner, but today’s been all about getting things ready. Megan’s parents helped her move her stuff into my cabin—ourcabin now. I offered to take the day off to help, but she insisted she had enough hands. Her parents, probably half my family too, all pitching in.
When I pull up the drive, the place looks quiet.
No trucks, no extra cars, no sound of chaos or arguing over where a box should go. That either means it went smoothly or they gave up halfway through.
I climb the steps and brace myself for the disaster waiting inside. I’m expecting piles of boxes, stray shoes, a mountain of clothes, and bags scattered everywhere.
