Page 181 of The Romance Adventure

Nostalgia for a time during which I was not yet alive makes my throat tight. Chip, with a similarly strong jawline and the same eyes as me, smiles in many of the pictures, happily in love with his bride on their wedding day.

“There it is,” CJ says, pointing to the two bands around our grandmother’s finger. “And there and there.”

It’s hard not to think about how Chip’s happiness was torn from him—his wife lost like so many things in his life: the crown; his daughter- and son-in-law; eventually us boys; and then his mind, if the will is any indication.

Or maybe it’s all meant to lead us back to something, to this moment.

I don’t think about that for more than a second before the fear that played tag with me when Lally and I were talking about the past and what happened to Sean taps me on the shoulder. I shove it away, but not before I think about how I’m afraid I might break Lally. Sure, I’m a gentle giant, relatively speaking, but I could break her heart.

I’m not sure I’m cut out for this, not even a soft launch into love.

But the ring is in my hand. My brothers are looking at me expectantly.

It’s go time.

The pillow, the knife, and the treasure hunt will have to wait.

I don’t have any real reason to be worried about Lally playing poker with the Pirate Defense League. According to her and word around town, she’s a card shark and can hold her own. It’s more that I asked her to do my dirty work. I could’ve just interviewed Higbee, Slidell, Mrs. Cross, and Mrs. Lipman myself. Heck, I should’ve.

But it’s getting later in the day and I expect her to be done with the game anytime now. The sky is clear and shaping up for a perfect sunset.

Boo sits by my side as I turn the engagement ring over in my hand.

“What do you think, boy?”

His bark sounds like the word brave.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

I send Lally a text, asking her to meet me at the cottages. The Junks are in a lot better shape than when I got here. We have some last-minute landscaping to do, otherwise, this looks like a manly type of place for dudes and their dogs to get some R&R, prepare for civilian life, heal wounds both inside and out, and meet man’s best friend.

Mine is somewhere on her way over here. I mean that Lally is my best friend, someone I trust, and a major side benefit is that I love her and am attracted to her in a way that I would never be with just a friend, especially a guy...or a dog, obviously.

No, Lally is on another level. I imagine her with her hair down, curls shining, eyes sparkling, and wearing that sundress.

Instead, she stumps toward me wearing a... I tilt my head. Boo does the same.

She waves.

My head tips to the other side. Boo’s follows.

Squinting, from top to bottom, I make out a tricorn cap, a puffy white shirt with ruffles, a red sash above a pair of black britches cut off just below the knees, and old brown boots.

“Arghh, matey. I have intel!” she hollers.

“First, what are you wearing?” She smells so good, like coconut and moonlight, I almost don’t care about the answer.

Up close, she removes an eye patch. “I wanted to keep the mood light.”

“So, you showed up to poker in character. You’re lucky they didn’t make you walk the plank.”

“They’re not pirates. Not anymore.”

My eyebrows lift. “This ought to be good.”

I lead us toward the cottages, unsure if I can ask this woman to marry me with a straight face, dressed as she is.

Lally is at my side one moment, telling me about her idea for the get-up, and then she yelps and hits the ground. “I fell in a hole.”