Page 20 of The Wrong Date on Easter

The meal winds down. Dessert is served—fruit tarts that look exactly like the ones I told Dove to eat last year right before everything fell apart. And plenty of pie for Theo.

I look at her. She’s scraping the last bit of cream from her fork, looking happy and relaxed and entirely at home.

It’s time.

My heart gives a hard, singular kick against my ribs. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and stand up.

The chatter at the table dies down. My father looks up, an eyebrow raised.

“Shane?” he asks.

“I have something to say,” I announce. My voice is steady, but my palms are sweating.

I turn to Dove. She’s looking up at me, confusion knitting her brow.

“Shane?” she asks softly. “Is everything okay?”

“Better than okay,” I say. I reach into my pocket and pull out the velvet box.

The room goes silent. I hear a sharp intake of breath from Cordia.

I don’t do this for the audience. I don’t do it for my parents. I drop to one knee on the hardwood floor, ignoring the creak of my knee, ignoring the gasp from my mother. I focus only on Dove.

“Last year,” I say, my voice rough with emotion, “I sat at this table and made the biggest mistake of my life. I tried to push you away because I thought I was protecting you.”

Dove’s hands fly to her mouth. Her eyes fill with tears.

“I was an idiot,” I continue. “I was a coward. But this year... this year I know exactly what I want.”

I flip the box open. The diamond glitters under the chandelier, simple and flawless.

“I want to protect you,” I say. “I want to support you. But mostly, I just want to be with you. I promise to never hide my heart from you again.”

I take a breath. “Dove Mercer, will you marry me?”

A tear slips down her cheek. She nods, frantic and fast. “Yes.” Her voice is a choked whisper. “Yes, Shane. Yes.”

I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly.

The room explodes. Cordia is screaming. My mother is clapping. My father is booming a toast. But I don’t hear any of it.

I stand up and pull Dove into my arms, burying my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of vanilla and rain.

“I love you,” she whispers against my collar.

“I love you.”

Later, as the sun begins to set, I pull her out onto the terrace. The party is still raging inside, but out here, it’s quiet. The sky is streaked with violet and gold.

I wrap my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on top of her head. She leans back against me, her hand resting over mine on her waist, the diamond catching the dying light.

“You know,” she says softly, “last year, I left this terrace thinking I’d never see you again.”

“I know.” I tighten my hold on her. “I almost let you go.”

I turn her in my arms so I can look down into her face.

“Never again,” I promise.

I kiss her, slow and deep, sealing the vow as the sun goes down over the estate, finally, finally at peace.