Page 124 of Only and Forever

I cry out as I come and sigh with pleasure as he grips my jaw, holds my mouth to his as he swears and kisses me, lost, undone. I love to watch him, feel him, hear him, the pleasure breaking over his face as he pumps up into me, his gaze growing hazy, mouth open, his desperate sounds, his hot, panting breaths. He gasps my name, spills into me, and clutches me tight.

Clumsily, we sink down to the blanket, Viggo heavy over me, his breath in my neck. He plants a slow, savoring kiss to my shoulder, then gently eases out, falling to his side, drawing me with him until I turn and we face each other. We breathe roughly as we stareat each other, smiles softening our faces when we lean in for more gentle kisses.

Sighing, Viggo drops his head back on the blanket and smiles up at the sky. “Goddamn, Lu. You out in open nature. You’re feral.”

I give him a prim look, gesturing around us to the flowers hiding us, deep on the A-frame property. “We’re secluded.”

He snorts, head turning my way. “Notthatsecluded.”

I laugh as we kiss, then laugh more when we scrounge around for our clothes, when he misses the button on his shirt and I put mine on backward. Once we’re dressed, I stand, savoring the wind on my face, the sun kissing my skin, and then I offer him my hand. “Come on. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

He frowns. “We do?”

“We do.”

Viggo takes my hand and stands, too, following me through the field. We walk hand in hand, quiet, arms swinging, sneaking smiles and kisses until we make it to the clearing in front of the A-frame, where Ashbury is parked, waiting for us, still reliable after three years and a handful of drives up and down the coast. “Where do we have to be?” Viggo asks.

I smile and give him a coy shrug. “You’ll see. Now, hand over the keys, if you please.”

He narrows his eyes but smiles as he hands me the keys, then follows me as I walk toward the car while checking my app quickly to be sure my sugar is in range, which I always do before driving. I pocket my phone as he opens the door for me and then shuts it after I settle in. Once Viggo’s inside, too, both of us buckled in, I start the car and drive us carefully onto the main road, back toward town, toward what I hope is the future he wants to share with me.

I’m quiet because I’m nervous. I try to hide it, putting on strumming, happy music, setting my hand on his thigh, but Viggocan sense it. He watches me closely, his hand resting reassuringly over mine, humming along to the music, meeting me right where I am, like he always has.

When we stop in front of what was, until just a month ago, Sarah’s general store, a beloved place for the Bergmans, owned by their good family friend, Viggo frowns. A heavy sigh leaves him.

Now it’s my turn to clasp his hand. I know he’s sad that the store is closed, that Sarah’s packed up, ready for retirement. But I hope, soon, he’ll be happy again.

“Come on,” I tell him, opening my door.

Viggo opens his door, too, following me to the storefront. That’s when I turn and face him, holding out the key.

His gaze drops to the key, then flies up to my face. “Tallulah Jane Clarke. What have you done?”

I smile. “I didn’t spend a bunch of money behind your back this time. I promise. I’m just here with... an idea. A dream.”

He tips his head. “What do you mean?”

Blowing out a slow, steadying breath, I clasp his hand and hold his eyes. “This place is ours, if we want it. Sarah... she wants us to have it, to open the next Bergman’s Books.”

His eyes widen.

“There’s a house behind it, as you know. It’s old and rough around the edges. Needs a good bit of love and elbow grease. I thought we’d work on this place together. I figured, when the time came to fix it up, that I’d be an excellent second pair of hands, that all your wonderfully handy family would help my husband, who’d lead the charge, so gifted with building things, reviving things, breathing life into them.”

Viggo stares at me, eyes turning wet. “I’m... not your husband, Lu.”

“No,” I whisper, fighting my own tears. “But I want you to be.”

He exhales roughly, face crumpling. “Lula—”

“I love you, Viggo.” I clasp his hand tight, my heart pounding. “I want to believe and dream and hope and build a life with you, from what we already have to even more. I want kids and chaos and joy that always gets the last say, even when sorrow comes. I want that with you, only you. Will you marry me?”

He nods frantically, tugging me into his arms, kissing me hard and deep. “God, you have a way with words, Lula.”

I smile nervously, peering up at him. “Is that a yes?”

He laughs softly, then kisses the tip of my nose. “You silly woman. Yes. It’s a yes. Always has been. You’re it. It’s this life with you, only and foreveryou, that I want. Of course I want to marry you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him with all my heart, loving him more than I ever knew I could.

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