But if I’m not there with you and you’re looking through this scrapbook with your daddy or alone, know that I created each page with love. I was happier than I had ever been, and my life was complete.

Love you always,

Mommy

Harlow

I sealed the latest envelope and wrapped the thick stack of letters in a pink satin ribbon. I still had eight weeks of pregnancy left and would add more letters, but so far, I had written one to Lila Kate for each birthday and Christmas until she turned twenty-one, for her first day of kindergarten, her high school graduation, her wedding day, the birth of her first child, and her thirtieth birthday. Just in case I wasn’t there, I wanted to leave a part of me with her. If I’d only had a part of my own mother growing up . . . I would have traded anything for it. At least Lila Kate would have that if she didn’t have me.

I picked up the other stack of letters I had written. They were all to Grant: one for the day after my funeral, one for his first day alone with Lila Kate after everyone resumed normal life, one for her first day of kindergarten, and one in case he met a woman he could fall in love with. I wrapped those letters up with a red satin ribbon.

If I wasn’t here to be his partner and help raise our little girl, I at least wanted my words to be there for him. I wanted him to know I was watching from above, that I was proud of him, and that I thought he was doing a wonderful job. I also wanted him to feel free to move on when the time came. He was my one and only love. He was my fairy tale. But it was possible I wouldn’t be his. He had a long life ahead of him, and I didn’t want him to spend it without someone by his side.

I placed both stacks of letters in the bottom drawer of Lila Kate’s dresser. On top of both piles, I left one letter loose: the first one he would read. I would tell him that they were there when I felt it was time.

I left the scrapbook lying on the top of the dresser because Grant knew about it. He didn’t know the real reason I wanted all those photos; he just knew I was making a scrapbook of memories for Lila Kate. I had framed my favorite photo of us sitting on the steps of the front porch. My head rested on Grant’s shoulder, and his arm was wrapped around me, his hand splayed out over my stomach. It now hung over Lila Kate’s changing table; you could see it the moment you walked into her room.

“You refolding baby clothes again?” Grant asked as he stepped into the room.

I laughed. He had caught me more than once reorganizing her closet and drawers. He didn’t understand it, but he never teased me. He always smiled and told me Lila Kate was going to have the best mother in the world. I really hoped that was true.

Grant never spoke about what could happen. With each doctor’s visit that went well—we continued to get good reports—he seemed less worried. He didn’t stare at my stomach as if he was unsure about it anymore. As if it was the enemy. He touched it often, and he had even started talking to her.

“I want everything perfect for her,” I told him, closing the drawer with the letters.

“It will be, because you’ll be there,” he replied.

Before I could say anything, he took a step toward me. “The photographer is coming back this afternoon. I have a few more pictures I’d like him to take.”

He did? I had started to ask him about it when he stepped in front of me and took both of my hands. Then, as if in slow motion, he got down on one knee. All ability to speak or breathe left me. I wasn’t expecting this. I had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t ready for marriage after the ball. Grant had already taken a huge chance on me. He didn’t like taking chances. He was cautious.

“Harlow Manning,” he said as he pulled out a black satin box from his pocket. “I think it’s possible I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you. I couldn’t forget you. I looked for reasons to be around you. I dreamed and fantasized about you. Then somehow, over Chinese takeout, I managed to get you to sit in the same room with me for longer than a minute. I knew that night when I kissed you that I’d never be the same. Nothing would. You had marked my life.”

He swallowed hard and gave me a shaky smile as he flipped open the box. A teardrop diamond was nestled in a small velvet cushion. It was simple and elegant. It was perfect. I didn’t wear jewelry often, but this . . . this I would wear forever. My eyes were filling with tears and blurring my vision. This was really happening. I reached up to wipe the tears that had escaped and let out a soft laugh at the emotional mess I had become.

“You terrify me. Nothing in this world has ever shone as brightly as you do or made me want to be a better person like you do. I’ll spend a lifetime trying to be worthy of you, but I won’t be. No one could ever be. You’re a rare and precious gift, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it, by my side. You’re my happiness. You’re my home. Will you make me the luckiest man alive and be my wife?”

Tears were freely streaming down my face now as I stood there with this beautiful man on his knees in front of me. A man who had just said such heartbreakingly sweet words to me. “Yes,” I said, unable to say anything else. I didn’t have to remind him of the chance he was taking. He knew. We both knew. He didn’t care. I was worth taking a chance for. That was what he was telling me.

“Yes?” he repeated, grinning up at me.

I nodded my head, and he let out a relieved laugh, then shot to his feet and grabbed my face with his hands. His lips covered mine, and I knew that if I died tomorrow, I had lived. I had lived big.