Theo Jr.said, “Okay. I have a lot of things I want to teach you how to do.”
I did not answer. I was looking at Maple across the porch—at the woman who was wearing two engagement rings now, who was laughing at something Mira was saying, who was holding apiece of Sue’s cake and the cream on her nose and looking more alive than I had ever seen her look.
This was it.
This was the thing that I had come to Frostbite Falls to find without knowing what I was looking for.
This was the thing that my brother had died before I could have.
This was the thing worth staying for.
I said, to the small boy on my knee, “I’m going to teach you everything I know.”
Theo Jr.said, “Good. Because I want to be like you.”
I said, “No, you don’t.”
Theo Jr.said, “Yes, I do. Because you made Maple happy. And Maple is the best. So if I can make someone happy the way you make Maple happy, then I will be the best too.”
I looked at the boy.
I said, “That’s a very good plan.”
The celebration went until 11:47 p.m. It was loud and full and exhausting in the way that celebration was when it involved forty people and the entire town and the understanding that this was a moment that mattered, that this was a pivot point, that from this moment forward everything would be measured in two ways: before the proposal and after.
By the end, Maple and I were sitting on the porch swing alone—everyone else had left or collapsed into couches, and the lights were still on, and the empty cake plate was on the side table. The town had retreated. The celebration had ended. Now it was just the two of them on the porch swing where I had asked her the question, where she had said yes, where everything had changed in an instant.
Maple said, “Three times you’ve asked me to marry you.”
I said, “Yes.”
Maple said, “Three times I’ve said yes.”
I said, “One more time. On September 19. In front of everyone.”
Maple said, “Knox. I’ve already said yes. Three times. In the diner. On the porch. Just now with the whole town watching. How many times do I need to say yes before you believe it?”
I said, “I know. But I’m going to ask you again every day for the rest of my life. And you’re going to say yes again every day for the rest of my life. And then we’re going to be married, and the marriage is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done because I will already know the answer.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder.
She said, “Is this because you have trouble believing I love you.”
I said, “No.It’s because I want to ask you for the rest of my life. I want to know, every single day, that you’re choosing me.”
She said, “I will always choose you. Every day. Every morning. Every night. This is my choice, Knox. You are my choice.”
I said, “I know. And that’s enough. That’s more than enough. That’s everything. You choosing me every day—that’s everything I’ll ever need.”
She did not answer right away.
I felt her shift against my shoulder. I felt her hand find my hand. I felt the slight tightening of her fingers, the way she did when she was about to say something she had been holding for longer than she wanted to hold it. I had learned this hand. I had learned the way her fingers tightened on mine before she said something hard.
She said, “Knox.”
I said, “Yes.”
She said, “I have to tell you something.”
