“Hi,” he says.
I laugh—a wet, overwhelmed sound—and say, “Hi yourself.”
“You followed the bees.”
“I followed the bees.” I hold up my collection—letters, honey, snow globe, my own words reflected at me. “And you wrote me letters.”
“I figured it was time I wrote some back.” He steps closer, and his nerves show by the twitching of his eyebrow. This man, who has faced down immeasurable danger without flinching, is nervous. “I have a lot to say.”
“You involved the entire town.”
“They insisted.” He frowns, but it quickly transforms into a reluctant smile. “Apparently, my plan was insufficient and lacked emotional resonance.” He makes air quotes. “Agnes can be so damn pushy.”
“So Agnes planned this?” I try not to let that little tidbit ruin whatever’s coming next.
“Betty planned the food. Pops handled logistics. Chief provided security, which I’m pretty sure just means he glared at anyone who got too close. Agnes did the tent. Roman complained the entire time but showed up anyway.”
He takes another step, close enough now that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. “But no, Honeybee. I planned this. I may have had to watch thirty-five romantic comedies beforemy plan passed the town council that was created specifically to ensure I didn’t fuck this up, but I planned it, from my heart, for you. And just because all of this isn’t enough, the Harringtons are outside, pretending they’re not pressed against the tent wall trying to listen.”
On cue, I hear Chase’s voice. “We are not.”
Followed by Grant. “Shut up, Chase, you’re ruining it.”
Valen winks and takes my hand.
“Clover,” he says before shaking his head and starting over. “Calla was the girl who saved me before I knew I needed saving. And Clover is the woman who waited for me when she had every reason to give up.”
“Valen—” I’m not sure what I want to say. Even after all this time has passed, I still don’t resonate with Calla. Clover is who I became, who I created from the ashes of Calla.
“I’m not done.” He squeezes my hand. “Even when I was surrounded by family, I still felt alone. There was a hole in my chest that nothing could fill. Not my relationship with my cousins, not my aunt, who went above and beyond to make me feel loved. Nothing could ease the ache in my chest. But then I found you—or you found me—and everything finally made sense.”
He pauses, and I see him choosing his next words carefully. “I used to think I needed to make up for what happened. Save so many people that the past couldn’t touch me anymore. But I’ve learned that the boy who cut those brake lines—he’s part of who I am. Not all of me. Not the best of me. But I can’t pretend he doesn’t exist.” His voice steadies. “I’m learning to carry him instead of running from him. And you—you taught me that carrying something doesn’t mean carrying it alone.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box.
My heart stops. The air in my lungs freezes as if they forgot they’re actually supposed to move air through and not trap it.
“I’ve already chosen you,” he says, opening the box to reveal a ring—a delicate gold band with a center stone the color of honey, flanked by two beautiful diamonds. “I chose you when I came back. I chose you when I stayed. I choose you every single day when I wake up beside you and can’t believe I get to have this life.”
He lowers himself to one knee. “But I want to choose you forever. Officially. In front of this whole ridiculous town and every single person who helped us find our way back to each other.”
I’m a blubbering mess who doesn’t know where to look.
“Calla O’Connell. Clover Danes. Clover Danforth. My Honeybee.” He looks up at me with certainty shining in his eyes. “Will you marry me?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Yes!” I say, barreling into him and sending us both careening into the tent. It crashes down around us while everyone on the outside hollers and shouts as they attempt to right the thing.
And amidst the chaos, Valen slides the ring onto my finger—a perfect fit, because of course it is—and then he’s on his feet, holding the fabric of the tent up with one hand and me with the other.
Then he kisses me like we’re the only two people in the world.
But we’re obviously not because the tent lifts away from our bodies and suddenly, we’re surrounded.
Chief is sobbing. Madi is sobbing. Savvy is pretending not to sob while Elle hands her tissues. The Harrington brothers are doing that masculine back-slapping thing that men do when they want to express emotion but don’t know how. Greyson and Braxton are grinning like idiots. Agnes is proclaiming that she knew it all along while Pothole squeals his approval.
Chief raises his thermos. “To the happy couple. May you have a long life, and may Valen never forget that I know where to hide bodies.”
“Romantic as always, Chief,” Pops says. “Truly a poet.”
