Another. “Promise I’ll do my best not to wake you each morning when I get up at three.”
Another. “Promise no matter how much we argue, I’ll never let you walk away.”
Another. “I promise there isn’t a single thing in this world that could stop me from loving you.”
I stand slowly, my palm filled with acorns, Oakley watching me all the while.
“And us?” I ask. “Which one means forever?”
“They all do,” he says simply. “Every one of these acorns means forever with you.”
I suck in a shallow breath as the wind rustles the branches around us. The sun winks in and out, shafts of gold lighting Oakley’s hair and the side of his face. There’s pixie dust dancing on the breeze around him, the shimmer of it undeniable.
My gaze is drawn to the willow branches above us, the brown spreading out like a star, blue sky peeking through in a way that reminds me of Oakley’s eyes. Of all the times I’ve looked into them and felt utterly content.
It’s summers past and the warmth of sunlight on my skin. It’s safety and home and the excitement of battling pirates. It’s knowing my heart is safe with this man. As safe as the memory of two eleven-year-olds sharing their first kiss under the shade of a willow.
I bring my gaze back to Oakley. This man, once a child, who has always made me feel as if I could fly.
“Marry me.”
Those blue-and-brown eyes of his flare wide.
It’s two words. No ring. No finesse.
But it couldn’t feel more right.
Oakley pulls in a shuddering breath as I step closer. His nod is a slow thing, but there’s no hesitation in it.
“Yeah, Law,” he says, his voice nothing more than a whisper.
I hold out my pinkie, my palm full of promises. Oakley twines his with mine.
Our kiss, this time, isn’t two boys holding on to Neverland. It’s men who recognize the adventure has only begun.
Chapter 34
Oakley
“This isn’t too much?” I ask Wendy, the abundance of rings on my fingers feeling like overkill. Not to mention the bracelets tucked under my sleeves.
“It’s tradition,” she says, twisting one final loop onto my thumb. “There.”
I look at the jewelry covering my hands, over every digit except my left ring finger. My throat gets tight.
“You didn’t want to help your dad get ready?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, her brown hair held half back with pins, the rest in a subtle curl. “Colton’s got him.”
Taking a step back, she sweeps her gaze over me. From my freshly cleaned boots, to my slacks and light tan jacket. The sprig of lavender in my breast pocket. The bolo tie Lawson insisted on becausewe’re not fancy, Oak.
My hair is neatly tidied. My beard trimmed. Every inch of me is pressed and polished. Not to mention adorned now that Wendy is through with me.
“You look great,” she says, seeming as if she’s trying not to cry.
“Shit, kid.”
“Language,” she mumbles.
