A year later...

Freya stepped through the front door of the condo and kicked off her heels.

“Yuck. It still smells like fresh paint in here.” She wrinkled her nose and went straight to the living room windows, prying them open to air out the main floor a little.

“It still has that new house smell.” Jaxon paused to align her shoes with the rest, though they were out of place with the running shoes, rain boots and flip-flops that they’d been wearing during their move-in. She was just glad to not trip over them trying to get into the apartment anymore.

“I’d be happy with old house smell right about now. Ugh.” She checked the time.

The wedding had run long, in part to the bride and groom disappearing for a while. Everyone had snickered, but no one called them on it when they reappeared. The whole thing had been beautiful and well deserved. Sitting on the sidelines, watching it come together over the last year, had made Freya give a lot of thought to the future.

“I’ll pop food in the oven if you want to get a shower first?” Jaxon peered at his wrist watch. He looked damn fine in a suit. It gave her a lot of ideas... “Freya?”

“Oh, right. Shower. Yes.” She’d had an unfortunate accident with the sticky, sweet punch, and wet wipes could only do so much to remove the mess from her skin and clothes.

“Hey, stop writing that paper in your head.” He snapped his fingers at her. “Save it for the laptop, missy.”

“You aren’t the boss of me.” She stuck out her tongue at him and headed for the stairs.

He was right, she had a paper to write. A big one, but she’d lined up all her research for it ahead of time. She just had to follow the note cards and her outline. It should be fine. Which was a blessing, given the spiraling ideas currently taking over her head.

They had a good thing going for them.

Really good.

Which was why when he’d made noises about maybe getting a bigger apartment, she’d nixed that idea and bought a house. It wasn’t like her inheritance was doing anyone any good sitting in a savings account. Though it had taken a considerable amount of arm twisting to convince Jaxon this was what she wanted.

She hadn’t understood it then, because it was a logical step to live together.

Freya went through the motions of showering, lathering up.

Maybe she was missing something.

She was damn proud of him for not only finishing his undergraduate, but all the footwork he’d done to secure loans and the means to start his PhD. He didn’t give himself enough credit for how far he’d come and how hard he’d worked.

Her feelings for Jaxon had grown.

Yes, her body reacted to his touch, his kiss, but it went deeper.

Was this love?

She’d been waiting for trumpets and sparkles and something...big. Instead, slowly, over time, she’d changed.

When she’d watched the tears slide down the groom’s face today, she’d seen Jaxon. She’d wanted that. To make him happy, to be with him. Forever.

If that wasn’t love, then what was?

Freya shut off the shower and slicked the water out of her hair.

She bundled up in a towel and picked her way down the freshly waxed stairs.

Jaxon sat on the sofa, suit jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, and his feet on the coffee table.

That was the picture she wanted to come home to after a hard day at work. He was the person she wanted to study with. Travel with. Laugh with. Be with.

Jaxon glanced up and quickly pulled his feet off the coffee table.

“Sorry, I forgot. Won’t happen again.” He clicked the pen in his hand a few times and stared at the book.

Yeah, feet on the coffee table was a losing battle, but she’d at least try to break him of that habit.

“Hey.” She crossed to his side.

“Hm?” He peered up at her.

“Put that down for a minute?” She didn’t want to touch the textbook, not with all the water running off her still.

He set the book aside, his place marked with a piece of paper.

She crawled onto his lap, not the least bit worried that she was soaking him, the sofa and the carpet.

“Um, babe, the windows are open, you know?” Jaxon chuckled.

“You know I’m crazy proud of you, right?”

“You’ve said that a few times. What’s up?” Jaxon tilted his head to the side, his attention on her face while his hands slid up her thighs.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jax. I know I’m doing this backwards, but—hear me out?” She cupped his face.

“O...kay...”

“There’s no one I want to be with like I want to be with you. I need you with me. You make me happy, you keep me going and... I think I’ve been waiting for...writing in the clouds or something, but if this isn’t love...then, it’s got nothing on what we have. I love you, Jax, and...I want to be with you always.”

Jaxon gripped her knees and stared into the impossibly dark eyes of the woman he loved.

Was he dreaming?

Was this moment real?

He’d dreamed about it that first night when she’d told him she didn’t believe in love. He’d wanted to prove her wrong. Had he really?

“Jax?” Freya’s voice had a watery quality to it.

“I’m...taking that all in...”

“I just said I love you and you’re taking it in?” She sat back on his knees.

He opened his mouth, but what did he say?

He’d told her he loved her a dozen times a day. He’d come to terms months ago with the idea that she might never say it back. It didn’t matter. He loved and he would continue to do so until she left him, because he couldn’t live without her.

But now...

He stood with her in his arms. At least until she squawked and slid to her feet, clutching the towel to herself.

“Jax! I’m trying to talk to you.” She all but stomped her foot.

He grinned and crossed to the built-in shelves around the TV.

They’d made two trips to Finland in the last year. Freya enjoyed her mother’s family more than she’d expected, and on this last trip, he’d gotten something special from Freya’s aunt.

He pried the lid off a decorative tin box. It’d had chocolate mints in it, but Freya liked the pattern so they’d kept it. When he needed a place to stash the goods, well, a box from Finland seemed like a nice spot.

“I’m trying to have a moment here and—what are you doing?”

“I wasn’t ready yet.” Jaxon swallowed and turned toward her, the slim ring pinched between his fingers.

“What...” Freya stared at the ring with a funny expression. Did she recognize it?

Jaxon knelt, because that was what he was supposed to do, and took her hand.

“I told you I wasn’t ready.” He sucked in a breath. He could say that all he wanted, but the truth was, he’d always been waiting on Freya. “Your aunt and uncle gave this to me the last time we saw them, and told me to make you happy. I hoped this might make you happy...”

“Are you proposing or what?” She looked almost afraid, but then again, so was he.

“If you’ll give me a minute, I will.” Jaxon blew out a breath. “Freya—”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t ask you yet.”

“I know, but—we’ve waited a long time.”

“I’m going to ask you, so you’ll have to just hear me out.”

“Fine.”

“Freya—”

“Can we go to Vegas?”

“No. Now, will you stop?” He bent his head and kissed her hand. “Will you marry me, Freya?”

“Yes!”

He held his breath and slid the ring on her finger.

It was plain, and worn by generations of hands, but it fit.

Jaxon stood and gathered her to him, both of them staring at her hand. The silver band had a groove down the middle, and in the center was a tiny emerald.

“It was supposed to be your mom’s, but your dad had other ideas. Your aunt wanted you to have it. It’s not flashy—”

“I don’t want flashy or expensive or anything but you.” Freya lifted her gaze to his. “I’d want to be with you in a cardboard box or in a tent. I’d be happy with used dental floss around my finger, if I needed anything. I don’t care about the things, Jax. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He bent his head.

“Are you sure about Vegas?”

“No Vegas. Your aunt would kill me.”

“I love you, Jax.”

Those were four words he would never tire of hearing.

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