Page 264 of Lost Then Found
A soft gold band—thin, delicate, timeless. At the center is an oval-cut diamond, set east to west, flanked by two smaller diamonds on either side that catch the light like they’ve been waiting to show off just for me. It’s elegant without trying too hard. Feminine, but bold. Like he took everything I am and everything I’ve ever wanted and set it in gold.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
Boone smiles up at me. “I wanted you to have something that felt like you. Soft and strong. Beautiful without needing to be flashy.”
Tears slip down my cheeks again, no matter how many times I swipe them away.
“I want to spend the rest of my life loving you better. I want to be your calm when everything feels like too much. Your loudest fan, your soft place to land. I want to be the man who gets to hold your hand when we’re old and gray and arguing over how to load the dishwasher.”
He shifts, breath catching just slightly. “I want to be home for you, the way you’ve always been home for me. I want a life with you. Right here. With Hudson and this house and all the years we thought we lost finally finding their way back to us. I want to build something with you that lasts. Something we fight for. Something we come home to.”
His voice drops to an almost whisper. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me, Lark Caroline Westwood?”
My knees give out, and I’m sinking to the floor with him, wrapping my arms around his neck and nodding through the tears.
“Yes,” I say, breathless. “A million times yes, yes, yes!”
Boone catches me in a kiss, his hands on my back, his mouth soft and urgent against mine like he’s been waiting years for this.
“Gross,” Hudson mutters behind Boone, but he’s grinning so hard it’s like his whole face is beaming.
Boone breaks the kiss, laughing against my cheek, tears streaming down his face. “I think I’m supposed to put this on your finger now.”
I hold out my left hand, still trembling. He takes the ring out of the boxand slides it onto my finger with the kind of care that makes my heart clench.
It fits perfectly. Of course it does.
Like every piece of this—of us—was always meant to fall into place.
He stands and grabs my face again, his palms broad and rough, thumbs sweeping across my cheeks. Then his mouth finds mine again, and I melt into him, my arms slipping around his neck, pulling him closer like I could fold myself into him completely and still not be close enough.
As his lips move against mine—soft and searching, full of every promise he just spoke out loud—I can’t stop thinking about how wildly lucky I am. Not just because he loves me. Not just because he built a damn house for me. But because I get to spend the rest of my life loving him back. Waking up to his sleepy smile and that ridiculously beautiful hair. Making dinner with Hudson hanging off his back. Arguing about whether or not the porch needs a swing. Kissing him in the hallway for no reason at all.
I kiss him like I mean it—like I’ll never stop meaning it—and when I finally pull back, I whisper, “You’re it for me, Boone Wilding. I love you so much.”
His arms tighten around my waist, and I swear I feel him exhale like the words filled something in him that had been aching for years.
“Get in here,” I say, motioning Hudson over with a wiggle of my fingers.
He rolls his eyes like a true twelve-year-old, but his half-smile gives him away as he walks over and folds himself into us, arms around both our waists.
My boys.Mine.One made from me, one I’ve loved since I was barely more than a kid myself.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, sandwiched between them in this house that already feels more like a home than anywhere I’ve ever lived.
Boone leans down, brushing a kiss against my hairline. “There might be some people waiting for us outside.”
I glance up at him, suspicious. “Define ‘some’.”
He just smiles and tips his chin toward the front of the house. So I breakaway—reluctantly—Hudson’s hand still tangled in mine, and walk toward the front door. When I open it, I nearly laugh out loud.
Molly, Sage, Wren, Loretta and Miller are all standing on the porch, hooting and hollering like it’s Friday night at the rodeo. Molly’s holding up a phone with Ridge’s grinning face on FaceTime, shouting something I can’t quite make out over the noise.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, the laugh spilling out of me as I hold up my hand and flash the ring like I’m showing off a championship belt.
Miller pushes her way through the crowd, grabs my hand, and holds it up like she’s inspecting diamonds for a living. “Jesus. This thing could blind a small child. It’s perfect.”
Boone chuckles behind me, sliding an arm around my waist. “She helped me pick it out, so of course she’d say that.”
