I never used to particularly care for winter in Maine. I know I’ve lived here all my life, and I’m basically a wimp who should be used to it by now, but seriously, it gets freaking cold. I’d always been more of a snow-on-Christmas-Eve-and-then-it-can-melt type of girl. I love the initial frosting of the tree branches—that gorgeous, lacy network against a clear blue sky, all clean and fresh—but I never actually liked to get out in the snow and do stuff.
Until Tucker.
He’s made both Damon and me feel like we’re little kids, bundling up in our L. L. Bean coats and snow pants, putting on snowshoes and tromping through Damon’s yard to the woods beside his house. Tucker feels young again, too—bounding through snow drifts like he’s a puppy, woofing with happiness and sticking his snout in the snow so his face is coated in white powder.
I’ve learned that I enjoy the winter so much more when I’m actually out in it.
Although I’m thinking it has a lot to do with the company.
I moved in with Damon and Tucker right before Christmas. He’d been asking me since early fall, and although I wanted to, I thought it might be best to wait until he got everything settled with his company, especially because his mother made a major announcement a few weeks after Maddie’s wedding: that she would be moving to England to help Portia’s father rejuvenate and run Bellamy Marine, which eventually would merge with Cavanaugh Yacht. I have to say I silently cheered at this news…Gloria Cavanaugh, a whole ocean away. She’s been much different since her “epiphany” and seems to have accepted me as her son’s girlfriend, but honestly? She’s still pretty scary.
So after Damon was smoothly transitioned into acting CEO (soon to be permanent CEO), I packed up my clothes and essentials (which obviously included Lucy), advertised for a tenant for my apartment, and we began cohabitating together.
It’s been the best decision of my life.
We’ve had some wonderful “firsts” together—ate our first Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ house, cut down our first Christmas tree which we’ve kept propped up beside the deck so the birds can have shelter, and welcomed “our” first baby last month. Not exactly, but when your BFF gives birth and she asks you and your boyfriend to be godparents, it’s pretty close. Edward James is the most beautiful baby boy I have ever seen, and Maddie and Jack are obviously ecstatic.
Combine all of this with my mom and dad’s remarriage and Memory Lane Café doing extremely well, and you could say I’ve had a very exciting fall and winter.
I have never been so happy. Even when I’m freezing my ass off, like now, when Damon has us out on another winter walk in fifteen degree weather. Tucker is totally oblivious to the frigid temperature, and I can’t help but smile seeing how joyful this old boy is.
We traipse through the woods next door, taking our familiar path. I’m walking ahead of Damon and spy a snow-laden branch that accidentally springs back as I pass and accidentally showers his face with snow. He doesn’t buy the accidental story and informs me that this is, in fact, a declaration of war. I’m giggling hysterically as I try to leap through the deep snow ahead of him, but my short legs are no match for his long ones, and he’s grabbing me while I shriek and Tucker barks. Damon is laughing until he spins me around, and then his face changes. Wrapping me in his arms, he bends down and gives me a spontaneous, warm, deep kiss that makes me feel like I am way, way overdressed.
“What was that for?” I ask weakly, when he’s done.
“You deserved it. For being the sexiest, most beautiful woman alive.”
We walk back side by side, clumsy in our winter gear, and I marvel at how you can feel like it’s impossible to love anyone more, and then you do.
Back inside, I make us some hot chocolate with marshmallows while Damon plays the piano at my request. The house is filled with beautiful, rich sound, and snow has started to fall outside, making everything feel dreamy. I come in to the living room with steaming mugs to watch Damon finish the song. I will never tire of seeing his fingers caress those keys, of seeing him almost become one with the piano, of feeling like I’m part of something bigger than both of us. He strokes the last few keys with exquisite tenderness and looks up at me, smiling, because he knows I always want to make love with him after a piano session. Or during it.
We sit down on the couch with our cocoa. Lucy is curled up in the armchair, and Tucker is laying down next to the fireplace, looking for all the world like he’s smiling.
I peer at him closer. “What’s that on his collar?”
Damon leans forward as well. “Not sure. T-Man, come over here, bud.”
Tucker lurches to his feet and trots over, wagging his tail. He pushes his nose into my hands, and I’m able to see that there’s a small, blue, cloth drawstring bag tied to his collar.
I look at Damon inquisitively. “What is…?”
He shrugs, his face the picture of innocence. “I guess he wants to give you something.”
“You mean besides daily joy and undying devotion and faithfulness?”
“Besides that.”
I bend down to kiss Tucker’s head and rub his ears. “You didn’t need to get me anything, buddy.” I untie the strings from his collar and lean back against the couch with the bag in my hand. Damon pats the side of his leg, and his dog—our dog—ambles over to him.
Loosening the top of the bag, I pull out a folded piece of paper. I glance over at Damon, who is busying himself scratching Tucker’s rump.
I feel my pulse start to quicken as I open the paper. The blood is thrumming in my ears as I read the heading: MARITAL CONTRACT. My eyes skip across the words. I am trying to read slowly, but Oh. My. God. WHAT?!
I am at the part, “will enter into a period of engagement effective immediately, pending the acceptance of Delaney Brewster, otherwise known as Fiancée,” when I realize that Damon is on his knee in front of me. My hand flies to my mouth as he brings forth a jewelry box and opens it. There is a stunning, sparkly, breathtaking diamond ring in that box.
He is looking up at me, giving me his trademark gorgeous grin. “Delaney Brewster,” he says. “I’d like to enter into a new contract with you, and this one has no end date because it never will. I have fallen more and more in love with you every day, and I couldn’t wait any longer to ask you to be my wife. You make me feel like I’m sixteen years old one minute, and I want to carve our initials in a tree. But then I can see me at age eighty-five in a rocking chair on the porch. With you. I’m so in love with you. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving it. Will you marry me?”
I can barely speak the word. “Yes.” Tears are pouring out of my eyes as I hold out my trembling hand. He slides the ring on my finger, and it fits perfectly. Everything about this—about us—fits perfectly.
I fling my arms around him, and we kiss and kiss and kiss until I have to look at my ring again.
“It’s not cubic zirconia, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he grins, standing up. “No more fake stuff.”
“Glad to know it’s the real deal. And you know what they say about diamonds.”
“A girl’s best friend?”
“No.” I smile down at Tucker. “A big black dog is a girl’s best friend. Diamonds are forever. And,” I add, standing on my tiptoes to kiss my fiancé, “so are we.”
T H E E N D