“Sounds great.”

“November seventh,” he repeated.

“Perfect.”

“Last chance to change your mind. I’m texting Dad,” he said, waiting for me to call his bluff.

I waited, amused.

He held his phone to his chest, closing his eyes. “If you’re bullshitting me, it’s going to break my fucking heart.”

“Tyler Maddox!” I grabbed his phone, typed out the message, and sent it, turning the phone to show him. “It’s sent. It’s a done deal. I’m your wife on November seventh.”

He touched my cheek with his hand, running his thumb along my jawline. “You sure you’re ready?”

“What is there to be afraid of? You’ve already seen my ugly side and loved me through it.”

“What if the situation was reversed?”

I bit my lip, staring at his. He was honest, he was strong, he was beautiful, and he was mine. “You’re not the only one who would walk through fire for what you love.”

He scanned my face, breathed out a laugh, and shook his head, pressing his lips against mine.

THE END.