Stone exhales a low whistle. “Look at that. Just imagine what you could do if you really tried.”
Like what?I wonder vaguely before the answer comes. Moments later, the grass grows quickly, shooting up around my feet, and hundreds of tiny pink flowers spread across the pasture, popping up in a wave as they move toward the horizon.
The glow from the earth begins to fade, and I feel myself tiring.
This was a lot of effort, even if it was easy. Because of Stone. All because of him.
I glance at him shyly and see him gently watching me with a warmth in his eyes that makes the tops of my ears heat.
I have no clue why. I’m already fake-engaged to the man. The time for embarrassment is long gone.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?”
It’s a good question, and one that has a longer answer than I think he’ll ever guess.
“For a long time I’ve been afraid to let myself shine, because what if I’m tarnished? Thank you for standing up to my family for me. For some reason, I don’t. I should, I really should. But I guess there’s part of me that thinks my sparkle could never match Brittany’s, so it doesn’t matter what I say—they won’t listen. Worse, they won’t hear me. You hear me. You see me, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”
He takes my hand and kisses each of my knuckles as he speaks. “I think I can only see you because I can see me. I don’t remember who I was before”—his voice breaks, but he catches it—“but who I want to be from now on is a man worthy of your love. Worthy of you. I did this once, but I can’t remember how it was done, and I can’t imagine it being nearly as romantic as this.”
He gently tugs the engagement ring from my finger and drops down on his knees. “You are like a star that fell from the sky—you have so much magic inside you. And I know the risks—I know what people in this town believe about those with power. But I’ll be damned before I let anything happen to you. I love you, Collette Higginbotham.”
The world tips, and I fall off. Loves me? He loves me. I feel the same with everything I have.
So I tell him. “I love you, too.”
He rubs the back of his neck bashfully. It’s the most humble and gut-wrenching expression. Weeks ago, I was terrified of Stone.He threatened to expose me to the entire town. Now he’s someone different. Someone worth loving.
“So.” He lifts the emerald ring. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me? Since I don’t recall the first time I asked and all, I want to remember it. I want to live it. I can’t miss another memory with you.”
My heart kick-starts to life, and I completely understand what he’s saying. This time with him has been magical, and I don’t want a life that he’s not a part of.
I open my mouth to answer, and then, right in front of me, a blade of grass shoots up and unfolds. No. It’s not a blade of grass. It’s a flower—one with purple petals.
The lunaria bloom.
I’d almost forgotten all about it. Or allowed myself to forget. Take your pick.
“Must be a sign,” Stone murmurs.
Of what, there’s no telling.
Stone holds the ring, waiting. My pulse thunders with a truth I can’t speak. I know this is all about to end—that the lie I’ve been living is on borrowed time. But for this breath, this heartbeat, I want to believe it’s real. That we’re real. That love can start in a mess of magic and mistakes and still grow into something worth keeping.
So I nod. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
It’s like I’m walking through a dream when he kisses me to seal our agreement.
Is it possible to love someone who doesn’t know their past? Is the past what makes us who we are?
Or is it the present? Or is it all of it, and even if we forget, the past still weaves into the nooks and crannies of our unconscious?
Whatever the answer is, I know I love Stone no matter his past. No matter his future.
I throw my arms around his neck and sigh into him as the lunaria bloom glows between us.
We laugh. We hug. We live in this moment for a long breath before I pull away and cup my hands under the flower, wondering at the hum of energy that runs up its stem and straight to the top. Magic literally drops from the stamen in golden pollen, and I gently dig around the flower, collecting it from the root and cradling it in my hands.
