Page 83 of Worth the Wait

"I didn't," I admit, though it seems perfectly fitting.

"They also symbolize true love," she continues.

We pass the high school again, the diner, all the landmarks of our shared history now infused with new meaning—not just places we've been, but signposts pointing toward a future we'll build together.

"We'll make new daisy fields wherever we go," Tarryn promises suddenly, her eyes meeting mine. "In New York, in whatever city our careers take us next. We'll find them or create them if we have to."

"I like that," I say, pulling her close. "Daisy fields everywhere."

Chapter 21

Tarryn

Apink-gold sunrise spills through my parents' kitchen window, bathing everything in a dreamy radiance that matches my mood. I cradle my coffee mug between my palms, the warmth seeping into my skin as I watch light dance across the diamond on my finger. The daisy pattern catches the morning rays, scattering tiny rainbows across the familiar wooden table of my childhood home.

"Is that what I think it is?"

My mother's voice startles me. I look up to find her frozen in the doorway, eyes fixed on my hand. Her expression transforms from sleepy confusion to excitement.

"Surprise," I say softly, extending my hand toward her. "We were going to tell everyone at breakfast."

She crosses the kitchen in three quick strides, gathering me into her arms with such force that coffee sloshes over the rim of my mug. "Oh, Tarryn!" Her voice breaks with emotion. "My beautiful girl."

When she pulls back, tears glisten in her eyes. She cradles my hand in hers, examining the ring with wonder. "It's perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"It was his grandmother's diamond," I explain, watching her trace the intricate daisy design with gentle fingers. "He had it reset."

"He proposed in the daisy field, didn't he?" She smiles knowingly.

"How did you?—?"

"Some things a mother just knows." She squeezes my hand. "That boy has loved you since you were sixteen. I always knew he'd find his way back to you."

“Darlin’, what's all the commotion?" My father appears in the doorway, still in his flannel pajamas, hair mussed from sleep. His eyes immediately lock on my mother's tear-streaked face, then follow her gaze to my hand.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says, voice gruff with emotion. "He finally did it."

"You knew?" I ask, shocked by his lack of surprise.

Dad chuckles, moving to pour himself coffee. "He called me last week to let me know. I told him you better not be asking me for no damn permission; she’s her own person."

"And you said yes when he still asked, didn’t you?"

"Course I did." He drops a kiss on top of my head. "He's the only one who ever saw all of you, honeybee. The fire and the softness both."

Ellie appears next, squealing so loudly when she sees the ring that our youngest sister Janette tumbles down the stairs in alarm, thinking someone's being murdered.

“What the hell?" she shouts, broom in hand like she’s going to be able to use it to defend herself.

Within minutes, the kitchen fills with excited voices and laughter as everyone examines the ring and demands details. Jackson approaches a few minutes later, his hair mussed and eyes half-closed as my sisters surround him in a bear hug.

I tell them about the daisy field at sunrise, about the house we'll someday build there, about our plans for New York in the meantime.

After breakfast, Dad motions me toward the back porch. "Take a walk with your old man?"

I follow him outside, where morning dew still clings to the grass and birds chirp. We settle into the weathered rocking chairs that have witnessed countless family conversations.

"I'm proud of you, Tar," he says after a comfortable silence. "Not just for the fancy law degree or the big New York job. But for finding your way back to what matters."

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