“Crazy, right?”
“It’s terrible.”
I look back at Stone. He’s smiling, but you would never know what he’s suffered. Well, you would if you’d met him before the spell got ahold of him. But today, this is the best version of himself, and somehow, I want to become the best version of me because of him.
Isaac starts to move away but I hold out my hand to stop him. “Are you ... will you tell him?”
He shakes his head. “The man’s happy. You’re happy. But secrets don’t stay buried long in Mystic Meadows. Especially not the magical kind. Eventually, you’ll have to choose who you’re trying to protect—and why.”
As Isaac leaves, Stone disentangles himself from Ron and Jennifer and makes his way back to me. Our gazes never leave one another as he approaches.
“I hope white wine is okay.”
“It’s perfect.”
He clinks his beer bottle against my wineglass. “You know, it’s weird.”
“What is?” I take a sip. The wine is cold and fruity. Perfect. “I mean, other than we’re having a party at Sparkle Bar.”
He chuckles. “Nothing about that’s weird. I always envisioned my engagement party would be housed in a place with deer heads.”
“You really can’t go wrong with a few mounted bass and a stuffed bobcat.”
“I think the turkey is what makes the place. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if there wasn’t a stuffed fowl sitting on that table back there.”
He points, and sure enough, a turkey is mounted in a standing position atop a table. The fowl holds its head high like it’s the guest of honor.
Stone winks as I chuckle. He gives me such a tender look my knees weaken. Who is this beautiful, wonderful man? If I could bottle this Stone forever, I would. I want to preserve him, this moment, all of it, forever. My body aches at the thought that this is fleeting.
“Listen, I realize this probably isn’t how you want to do this,” he says.
“Do what?”
He points his beer around the room. “Announce our engagement. But as soon as I knew, I couldn’tnotdo this.”
He’s so sweet. It hurts my soul.
He sets his beer on a table and steps closer. His voice lowers, like we’re in a world of our own. “I want to know everything.”
My mouth goes dry from his closeness, from his sea breeze scent, from his very presence.
“You want to know everything?” I ask, my tongue like sandpaper. “What kind of everything?”
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
Oh,thatkind of everything. Not the tell-me-all-about-my-life-and-fake-answers-you-know-nothing-about kind of everything. “Butter pecan is my favorite flavor, but only if the ice cream actually tastes like butter. Otherwise it isn’t worth it.”
“Mine is strawberry,” he says matter-of-factly. Then his eyes bulge. “Yes, it is. Strawberry. Wow. I know that. All right.” Stone snaps his fingers. “Favorite food?”
“Indian.”
He sucks air. “Chicken tikka masala!”
“Yes!” I throw up my arms. “I love it!”
“Me too. Wait. I remember the first time I tried it. I was at a hotel ... It changed my life. I may have cried afterward.” He frowns. “Hold up. It’s not my absolute favorite. Nothing can replace a great cheeseburger on a toasted bun.”
“Oh, I agree.”
