Page 113 of Just a Plot Twist
“Claire, oh my gosh.”
“What?” I lift my head and suddenly, Benson is holding his ring. In his fingers.
I whoop. I’ve never been a whooper, but now I am because—“Your ring!”
“Claire, it was stuck on the heel of your shoe. It was really wedged on there!
“And it blended in because of my gold shoes.”
The wonder of it all dances over my skin. “It was right here all along.”
We stare at each other. “Yes, it was.” His gaze travels over every part of my face. For a moment, we’re suspended in time. All I want is to slip it onto his finger right then and there.
But protocols and proprieties must be kept. The reverend must be summoned. He has to pronounce the words for all to hear.
Before he does, though, Benson and I drink the moment in. Before everyone else knows the wedding can continue—crisis averted—we wait. There’s an exchange of light and hope and deep, deep, abiding love in those dark brown eyes. We’re one—already. Tied together, yoked.
Always.
And when it’s time, he does kiss me good.
The End
