I sputter out a delighted laugh. “No, you’re not, I’m just...” Morebobblehead action. “I’m sorry, I’m surprised and a little overwhelmed, but I’m…”
“Happy?”
“So happy.”
I’m pulled into Rowan’s embrace, breathless and smiling like a fool. He locks his arms at my spine, cheek resting on my head. For a few minutes we just hold each other, rocking back and forth.
“How was your session?”
“It was…good.” My reply hits his chest. “I know it’s gonna be good.”
He hums but doesn’t push for more, and I squeeze him a little tighter for understanding.
I swivel my neck to look up at him, arms still linked around his waist. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“You’re really here.”
“I’m really here.”
A kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Rowan leans down to kiss me again, this time going deeper. But he retreats on a groan a second later. “Dammit, I can’t right now.” I grin as he checks the time on his phone. “I gotta get Mom and then…” He pumps his brows.
I cringe. “And then what?” I think I’ve had enough surprises for one sidewalk collision.
He barks a laugh at my expression. “I have a meeting at the police station.” Panic threatens on the fringes of my mind, but the smile on his face puts me at ease. “They called and asked if I was looking for a job. I don’t know, sunshine, I might exchange one uniform for another.”
“Hmm,” I shift back, give him a studious once over. Broad shoulders, firm chest, strong legs. “I approve. But I’m still gonna call you soldier.”
“Fine by me.”
Rowan pulls me forward and I jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He catches me like it’s nothing. “Tell me something real, soldier.”
A wicked grin. “I’m gonna ask you to marry me someday.”
I smile like a fool. “My turn.”
“Tell me something real, runaway.”
Visions of wrap around porches and babies and nights spent under the stars swirl in my head as I brush my nose over his. My answer lands in a whisper against his lips. “I’m gonna say yes.”
Epilogue
Hannah - twenty months later
“I metmy wife on the day of her wedding.”
Rowan lifts a single brow pointed straight at me. He winks.
I scan the tables of our hundred or so closest family and friends gathered to celebrate our wedding day. Amused chuckles smatter through the crowd illuminated under the faint glow of the cafe lights strewn between the pines on the property between our home and Tess’ cabin.
“How long have you been waiting to use that line?” I quip.
He lowers the microphone and leans in, words coasting over my ear. “Six years, eleven months, and four days.”