Page 46 of Final Proposal

Exhausted but still wired from the high of the day, I prop open the door to the boardwalk, unstack one of the chairs, and awkwardly move it out onto what’s left of the old patio. Night has fallen, and the moonlight brightens the white of the sand and sparkles off the water on the horizon.

When I slink down into the seat, I wonder if I’ll ever be getting up. I’m that exhausted. The hiss and crash of the waves hitting the shore is a lullaby all in itself.

“Here.”

I jump at the sound of Ford’s voice. I must have been so lost in thought and exhaustion that I didn’t hear him walk up behind me.

When I turn, I find him holding out a glass of red wine to me while he carries a tumbler of something else in his other hand.

“Thank you,” I murmur, taking the glass from him, uncertain where we stand at this point of the night.

He disappears momentarily and returns, setting a chair next to mine. His groan sounds exactly how I felt when I sat down minutes ago.

I wait for him to start the conversation and the longer it takes, the more I wonder if we’re simply going to sit in silence under a canopy of stars. I’m fine with that too.

He lifts his drink and swirls it around in the glass before taking a sip. “It’s a cool feeling, isn’t it?”

I don’t even have to ask what he’s referring to because I’ve been reveling in it all day.

Ownership. Having something that’s mine. Being able to create as I see fit.

“It is. I’ve never had something of my own that I get to be hands-on from start to finish.”

He holds his glass out and taps it against mine. “To new beginnings,” he says.

“To new beginnings.” I chuckle, my head spinning with how much life has changed for me over the last two months.

I’ve bought this property, taken a hiatus from my job, broken off an engagement, gained a partner, secured my place at Haywood, and spent endless hours planning the transformation of the building behind us.

It’s been a whirlwind to say the least.

And there’s still so much left to do.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“What does what mean? My chuckle?” I can see him nod in my periphery, and my thoughts veer to where I was supposed to be today versus where I am—sitting here, beside him. “Today was supposed to be the final fitting for my wedding dress.”

He clears his throat. “I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to respond to that.”

“No need to respond to anything.”

“So you rescheduled the appointment so you could be here for demolition day? That’s awfully generous of you.”

“No. I didn’t reschedule.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh.” How do I explain to him that I was going to marry for the sake of marriage? That doesn’t exactly paint me in the greatest of lights.

“I can ask if you want to talk about it, if this is the stuff you were figuring out that night . . . but it’s not my place to, so I’m going to sit here, enjoy a drink with you, and relax.”

“Thank you.” I slink down and lean my head back on the chair, my eyes focusing on the stars above.

The need to talk is there, to explain so he understands, but I’m not even sure that I understand the why behind my actions with Chandler.

“I can hear you thinking over there, Elle.”

I smile. “I’ll try to think quieter.”