“Hey, April?”
“Hmm?”
“Where does this belong?”
She looks confused. “Where does what belong?” She looks from the dog to me.
I drop to one knee and point to the engagement ring attached to the dog’s collar.
April’s breath catches and her eyes go wide.
“This. Us. Where do we belong?”
“Clark—?”
“I’ve been asking myself this question for ten years. Where does April Hansen belong in my life? Friend? Best friend? Something more?” I remove the ring from Blossom’s collar and it catches the light. “Turns out, the answer was always the same. You belong with me. Forever. As my partner. My best friend. My wife.”
Tears drift down her face, both hands over her mouth.
I present the ring. “April Hansen, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” She practically tackles me, and we both laugh as I catch her. “Yes, yes, yes!”
I slip the ring on her finger—perfect fit, thank goodness—and kiss her while our audience cheers.
When we finally break apart, she plants a kiss on my lips. And then again and again. I count them—ten, maybe one for each year we denied our feelings for each other.
She adjusts the engagement ring on her finger. “It’s beautiful.”
I smooth a piece of hair behind her ear and whisper, “Not as beautiful as you.”
Mom is crying. Dad is grinning. Claudia wolf-whistles. The twins are making gagging noises. The WAGs are already planning the wedding. Coach Badaszek nods approvingly from his spot near the Stanley Cup.
And April—my fiancée—is radiant as she finally cuts the ribbon for the Barkery.
Later, after the crowds thin and the dogs are exhausted and the last adoption paperwork is signed, April and I stand in the middle of The Barkery surrounded by the remnants of the best day of our lives, along with our pack—six dogs now. Enough to populate a hockey team.
“We did it,” she says softly.
“You did it. This was your dream.”
“Our dream now.”
I pull her close. “So what do you think of becoming Mrs. Culpepper?”
“I think it has a nice ring to it.” She holds up her hand, admiring the actual ring. “Literally.”
“Terrible pun.”
“You love my terrible puns.”
“I love everything about you.”
“And what about Mr. Finch and your sister? Do you think they can bridge that gap? I saw them talking earlier instead of fighting like cats and dogs.”
“I say that was unexpected and wonder if my mom saw it coming.” I’ll have to ask her.
April laughs.
