Laughter.
He opened the box to reveal a diamond solitaire engagement ring. “Megs, will you … please m-marry me?”
The blood rushed from Megs’ head, and for a moment, she stood there, open-mouthed, gaping at him. “We’ve been together for forty-eight years. We’re probably already married, according to Colorado common law. Why do this now?”
“Life is … short. I d-don’t want to be your part-ner … any longer. I want to spend wh-whatever … time we have left … as your … husband.”
His words and the look in his eyes made her heart melt.
“Oh!” Her vision blurred. “Yes! I’ll marry you.”
While the crowd cheered for them, he stood and slid the ring onto her finger, then drew her into his arms and kissed her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The Timberline Mudbugs took the stage—and the mic.
“Congratulations to our happy couple. Megs, Mitch requested this number especially for you tonight. Clear the floor, folks. This first dance is for them.”
Overcome with emotion, Megs let Mitch lead her off the stage and into the middle of the dance floor, just as the Mudbugs broke into a version of Baby, I Love Your Way.
With the whole town watching, she slipped into his arms, and they began to move around the floor, Mitch singing along, getting every sweet word right.
Mitch and Megsspent the rest of the weekend hanging with the dirtbags. It felt like old times—except for the ring on Megs’ finger. Mitch had seen her staring at it more than once, the diamond glittering in the light. He supposed it would take her a while to get used to it and what it represented.
After forty-eight years as his partner, she was now his fiancée.
On Saturday, they had a late breakfast and drove the dirtbags to Rocky Mountain National Park, then spent the evening looking at old photos and magazine articles and reminiscing about old times. They also watched the PSA they’d made together, which had begun running on major networks and online as of yesterday.
Mitch was touched. “Thanks for d-doing that.”
Accardo gave him a gentle slug in the shoulder. “For you, man? Anything.”
On Sunday morning, they went out with the Team, watching Conrad supervise the rescue of a climber who’d lost his nerve and gotten stuck high on a wall in Eldorado Canyon State Park.
Gridwall stared up at the rockface as they lowered the climber safely to the ground once more. “You two have done good. Uncle Jim is so proud of you.”
But then it was time for the dirtbags to head back to Las Vegas to turn in the car and catch their flights home.
Gridwall hugged Mitch tight, slapped his back. “I’m sorry I was such a dick in the early days. You’re the best of us. Megs was right to pick you. I’m so damned glad you got through this. My world wouldn’t be the same without you, brother.”
“Thank you… Jim. You are … family to us.”
While Gridwall said goodbye to Megs, Mitch helped Accardo and Cook load up the Lamborghini, which had a surprisingly small trunk. “Not... much room.”
Cook turned to Accardo, a grin on his face. “Speaking of no room, it’syourturn to sit in the back.”
“Great.” Accardo turned to Mitch. “You take care, man.”
“You, too.” Mitch hugged him and then Cook. “Good to … see you.”
Mitch stood with Megs on their front steps and watched their friends climb into the vehicle and drive away, engine roaring.
“And there go the crazy relatives.”
“Makes me … sad… to see them… go.”
Megs leaned into him, her fingers twined with his. “Me, too.”
