Page 62 of The Bear's Perfect Mate
“Sophie,” he began, then paused, seeming to collect himself. Then he went on. “These past few days have been the most extraordinary of my life.”
“For me as well,” she replied, her throat tightening as emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
Nero’s hand emerged from his pocket, holding a small velvet box, midnight blue, against his palm. Sophie’s eyes widened as she recognized it…similar to the one that had held her necklace, but smaller, more compact. Her heart seemed to pause mid-beat, then resume at double speed as he dropped to one knee.
“I had planned this differently,” Nero admitted as he looked up at her. “A quiet evening at The Lookout, perhaps, or a walk through the forest clearing where I first revealed my true nature to you.”
Her lips parted in a soft breath. That memory, of the clearing, the way he had shifted before her, vulnerable and magnificent, was etched into her soul.
His hand trembled slightly as he opened the box, revealing a ring nestled against dark satin. Sophie gasped softly as lantern light caught the stone. A ruby that matched her necklace perfectly.
“But watching you tonight, your courage, your talent, your grace in triumph, I find I can wait no longer.” His eyes heldhers, dark and sincere in the gentle light. “Sophie Truro, you have accepted every part of me, human and bear alike. You have brought warmth and purpose to my life in ways I never imagined possible.”
Sophie fought to hold back her tears. Tears of joy. Tears of love.
“I know our beginning was unconventional,” he said, his lips curving into a small smile. “But I know with absolute certainty that you are my mate, my heart, my home.” He took a deep breath, his voice steadying. “Sophie, may I ask you something important?”
She nodded, unable to form words past the emotion closing her throat.
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
The question hung in the air between them, simple and profound and perfect in its sincerity.
For a moment, she could only look at him, this extraordinary man who had appeared in her life at precisely the moment she needed him most. She thought of their chaotic first meeting—Nero stumbling at her feet with a ring box, a collision that had seemed like a mere accident but now felt like destiny. She remembered his patient kindness when she’d arrived at The Lookout, broken and doubtful after Tito’s betrayal. The courage it had taken for him to reveal his true nature to her in the forest clearing, trusting her with a secret that defied all logic.
How far she had come since then. From a woman who had defined herself through another’s eyes to someone who stood on her own strength. From someone who feared rejection to a woman who had found acceptance, not just from Nero, but from herself.
“Yes,” she whispered, the word barely audible at first, then stronger as she repeated it. “Yes, I will.”
“You will?” he asked, as if he could not believe his ears.
Sophie nodded, her own smile widening to match his. “I will.”
Nero slipped the ring onto her finger with deliberate care, his eyes never leaving hers. “They were always meant to be worn together,” Nero said softly, watching as she admired the ring. “I designed them as a set, though I hadn’t dared hope you would accept both so soon.”
“They’re perfect together,” she said, knowing he would understand she meant more than just the jewelry.
Nero stepped closer, closing the small distance between them. He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “My mate,” he murmured. “My heart.”
“My love,” Sophie replied.
And what a perfect love they shared. It flowed like a river, from their heart to her and from her heart to theirs.
Epilogue
The bookstore was packed, every corner lit with fairy lights and the warm glow of lanterns. Copies ofRooted in Flavorfilled the window display, each stacked beside a basket of herbs and hand-tied bundles of rosemary and thyme. Inside, guests sipped wine from the Thornberg vineyard and sampled miniature bites of recipes from the book: lavender shortbread, wild mushroom tartlets, and citrus-honey cake.
Sophie stood near the back, beneath a garland of wildflowers strung between shelves, signing her final book of the evening. Her hand ached and her cheeks were sore from smiling, but she wouldn’t have changed a thing. This night was everything she’d dreamed of—more, even.
Because this time, it was hers. Her name on the cover. Her story in every page.
“You did it,” Nero said, slipping beside her once the final guest drifted toward the refreshment table. His arm brushed hers. “And no one tried to take credit for your recipes this time.”
Sophie laughed softly and leaned into him. “No one dares. Not with my bear by my side.”
Nero gave a quiet, amused growl, just for her ears, before slipping his arm around her waist. He was still in his crisp dark shirt and jacket from the reading, but his tie had vanished and his top button was undone—his version of completely relaxed.
“I meant every word in the acknowledgments,” she added, tilting her face toward him. “This book wouldn’t exist without you.”
