“He’s really not subtle.”
“It’s definitely not his strong suit,” I say, as the creature curls up on Remy’s pillow, wrapping himself around her head. It’s a claiming, like he’s sayingshe’s mine.
I get it, Thor. I really do.
* * *
When Friday rolls around, I pick her up at the arena at the end of her work day. We had a game last night—we won, thank you very much to me for the game-winning goal. And I’ve got a night off before we need to leave for a road trip. So I’m taking the love of my life to finish the list.
She hops in the car, her overnight bag already packed. Thor is hanging out with my dad, likely messing up his puzzles and landing on his plates.
“You look stunning,” I tell her, drinking in the sight of her lush chestnut hair, her bright smile, her kind eyes. I reach for her silver sun charm, touching it, touching her.
“So do you,” she says, then drops a kiss on my lips.
It’s like a shot of happiness straight to my veins, and with it fueling me, I drive up the coast to a little town where we check into a treehouse hotel in the middle of an old-growth forest.
I gesture to the small cabin several feet above us, nestled high in the redwoods. “See? It has indoor plumbing, a shower, and a deck.”
She turns to me, grabs my collar, and kisses me hard. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”
“That’s true,” I say, without any sarcasm or irony. It is true. I am. Because she deserves the best.
That night, we settle into sleeping bags on the deck, under the stars.
“We did it,” she says. “We finished Katrina’s list. I wonder why she had this one on it.”
She told me about the time she returned to the store, learned Katrina’s name, and the story behind the list. But we don’t know thewhybehind each item. I noodle on herquestion as I run my fingers through her hair. “Maybe because it gives you perspective on what really matters.”
She turns to me, her hand on my chest. “The people you love.”
We’re quiet for a minute or two, just listening to the sounds of nature as the night sky covers us. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch something. The flicker of wings. A silent flight. “Look,” I whisper with urgency, pointing to a branch twenty feet above us where an owl has landed silently, stealthily.
“You summoned an owl,” she says.
And I laugh. “Yes, Remy. I’m an owl whisperer.”
But I lose interest in the owl when she tugs me closer and pulls me on top of her, her bright eyes flickering with naughty thoughts. “There’s something I want to do under the stars.”
And she’s not at all silent as we enjoy the best benefit of sleeping under the stars—not sleeping.
EPILOGUE: MY PLANTS HAVE LEGS
REMY
I’m ready. Whatever the answer is, I’m ready. If I lose the job, I’ll find another one. It’s all going to be okay. I blow out a steadying breath, then rap on the open door to Daniel’s office a few days later. He asked me to come see him this morning. That’s all he said, and I’m trying not to read anything into it.
“Good to see you. How’s everything going?” He gestures to the chair.
I take the seat, perched on the edge of it. “It’s great. Lake and I stayed in a treehouse hotel on Friday night. And there were no snakes.”
He laughs, amused. “Good to know.”
“Thank you again for helping him the other day. That was amazing of you,” I say, so grateful Daniel played a role.
“Maybe there’s a new career for me as a romance designer,” he says, then lets his smile vanish. “Remy, I’ve given a lot of thought to how things went, and I want to reiterate that you don’t ever owe anyone information about your personal life. You can do whatever you want in your relationships. And no one but you and your partner should ever have any say.”
“Thank you,” I say, eager for him to get to the next part, whatever that is.
