There’s silence on the other end of the call.
My guts tense up.
“Harlan?”
“Yep. That’s my name,” he quips. “But you know, I’m just sitting here, scratching my head, thinking you two already had a wedding, didn’t you?”
I grin.
“Yep, you’re right about that, sir.” I nod, even though he can’t see me. “We kind of took care of the legal side without awhole lot of warning.” I reach for Loren’s hand. “So your daughter and Iaremarried, that part’s true. But now, with your permission, I’d really like to be her husband.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Loren
Bridger Adams sure knows how to sweep a woman off her feet.
It’s me. I’m the woman.
Totally, completely swept.
I peer up at him now, tall and steady beside me, and my eyelids start to flutter against the waterworks. My dad’s on the other end of this call, and I can only imagine what he’s saying. Probably how grateful he is to know I’m so deeply cherished. I still remember his voice, years ago, promising my mom we’d be all right.
“I’ll look out for our girl for you,” he told her. “Until someone else worthy applies for the job.”
True to his word, my dad has looked out for me every day since.
For her.
For me.
Afterward, he told me nothing is truly lost that is stillloved. And I believe that with my entire being. I also believe Bridger’s worthy.
He ends the call now and pushes my phone into his pocket. “Your dad said yes.”
“Ummm, excuse me,” I choke through happy tears. “But I think that phone is mine.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” His lip curves up. “ButIthink you might need your hands free for this next part.”
Next part? Oh, my.
His gaze flicks to my mouth, warm and bright. Then his Adam’s apple travels the length of his throat. My husband’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me.
But he doesn’t kiss me.
Instead, he gathers both my hands, then he drops to one knee. My heart catapults to my throat. Okay. This is better. Not gonna lie.
“We’re already married,” I gasp. “You don’t have to?—”
“Hey, kitten?” He tips his head. Blinks at me. Waits. “Are you gonna let me do this, or not?”
I nod wordlessly. Then I start to tremble.
“Loren Elise Cane Adams,” he says, his gaze locked with mine, “Will you do this man the supreme honor of … going out on a date?”
My mouth falls open, and I make a noise that’s half laugh, half snort, and one hundred percent delighted.
“To be clear,” he says, “I absolutely plan to propose to you. Later. After I’ve made up for all the wooing we missed.”