I laugh shakily through my tears.
Then I notice the stack of blank journals waiting on the desk.
My chest physically aches.
“Besides, you said once you always wanted to write.”
The simplicity of the statement nearly undoes me.
Not: someday maybe. Not, if you have time. Not, if you’re good enough.
Just: You said you wanted this.
So he built space for it.
I turn toward him slowly.
“You made me a library.”
Troy shrugs one shoulder.
“And a writing room.”
Emotion swells so big inside me I can barely breathe around it. “I know exactly what story I’m going to write first.”
One dark eyebrow lifts. “Oh yeah?”
I step closer until my hands settle against his chest.
“It’s about a man with a reputation for being bad.” I smile softly. “But it turns out he’s only bad at being social.”
Troy snorts. “He sounds like an idiot.”
“He’s amazing,” I correct gently. “And he’s perfect for our heroine.”
His hands slide around my waist automatically.
“Let me guess. She’s a badass from the lower forty-eight who came to town to whip his ass into shape.”
I laugh. “Pretty much. And they obviously fall in love when they get caught in a storm together.”
“Sounds like a bestseller.”
I smile up at him. “You think?”
“Oh yeah.” His gaze turns warm. Intent. “But I know one thing your story needs to really give the readers what they want.”
“What’s that?”
Troy steps back slightly.
Then drops to one knee.
My breath completely leaves my body.
“Oh my God.”
The ring in his hand catches softly in the golden evening light. Delicate but beautiful, the center stone surrounded by tiny leaf-shaped details that somehow feel perfectly mountain wild and elegant all at once.
