Page 116 of Wishing Hearts

“Yeah,” I reply, swallowing. The crickets sound like they’re chirping in time to my heart. “I hadn’t wished for a very long time, Sam. Not until you.”

“Harrison,” he says softly, but his mouth clamps shut the moment I shift up onto one knee, and his eyes shoot wide in understanding.

Remarkably, all of my thoughts settle as I look at the man I love. At his big, brown eyes and expressive face. At the strength of his body, but, more importantly, the strength he carries inside. When I look at him, I’m certain he’s the one, and my voice comes out even and true.

“Sam, you came into my life, and you were sunshine, so big and bright and beautiful. You were sunshine, but you were starlight, too. You woke me up, and you made me dream. You gave me hope for a partnership when I thought I’d lost that for myself. And now, all my heart wishes for is you. It’s you, you, you, Sam.”

He stutters out a breath, and I pull the ring box from my pocket. My hand is steady, and Sam’s eyes drop, watching as I flick it open, revealing the onyx ring inside. It gleams dark under the starlight, but the constellation I had engraved along the surface shines silver and bright. Seven little stars.

“I was stuck before you came along,” I say quietly. “I’d convinced myself no one could love me and all of my baggage. But I just hadn’t found you yet. The way you love us? God, it’s wonderful, Sam. It’s huge and perfect and right. You belong with us no matter what. But I hope you’ll do me the honor of becoming my husband. And Winnie’s dad,” I add carefully. “Because we don’t want you to ever doubt that you’re ours.”

A single tear rolls down Sam’s cheek. “You’re askin’ me to marry you?”

I give a start, realizing I never actually said the words. “Shit. We really do need to work on our romantic declarations, huh?”

Sam lets out a watery chuckle. “I dunno. Seems pretty perfect for us.”

Yeah, it really does.

“Sam,” I say again, drawing in a breath. “Would you marry me?”

He huffs out a laugh-cry-moan, swiping at his cheek and nodding furiously, and his adamant “Yes” is almost too quiet to hear. I laugh with him when he reaches for the box, and my hands begin to shake as I pull the ring free. I knew—I knew—what Sam’s answer was going to be, but now that I’ve heard the words, it’s hitting me in a rush.

Sam said yes.

He’s going to be my husband. Winnie’s dad.

Ours. Permanently.

Sam looks down at the ring as I slide it into place—a perfect fit—and then he’s grabbing me behind the neck and tugging me forward. His lips meet mine, warm and insistent and bursting with joy, and it’s all I can do not to cry. The good kind. The relieved kind. The kind that means forever.

“Did he say yes?” Winnie yells, and Sam breaks away from me, eyes wide once more.

“Yes, he said yes!” I call back.

There’s a whoop from below and then the sound of Winnie’s little footsteps climbing up the ladder. Her head pops into view first, blonde hair in disarray, and then she’s scrambling between us, her star pajamas glowing softly in the light of the moon. Sam hugs her tight, so many emotions flashing over his face as his gaze finds mine. My parents call up their congratulations, Winnie starts gushing about how I told Daddy you’d want it to be under the stars, and I was right, wasn’t I? This is awesome. But Sam doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. I can see it in his eyes.

A glimmer of starlight. The future spread before us.

It’s quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Love you,” I whisper among Winnie’s excited ramblings and the sound of the rest of our family celebrating below.

Sam’s smile is like the sun. “Love you, too, stud.”

Epilogue

Two and a Half Years Later

Harrison

As Sam, Winnie, and I stroll leisurely past the brick-faced shop fronts on Main Street, Winnie keeps up a running commentary of everything she and Janey did at the planetarium field trip yesterday.

“And you should’ve seen Josh. I mean, gross. Everyone knows you don’t stick food up your nose. He’s still immature, though. Twelve-year-olds,” she says with a snort.

Sam and I share a look over Winnie’s head, and his eyes go wide. Right. Twelve-year-olds. Because Winnie is thirteen now. Officially a teenager.

Wonders never cease.

---