“One more sweep, and then I’ll be good to go.”

I tap my foot at the door to our apartment and try to tamp down the excitement sparkling in my veins. It’s unreal. It’s so powerful that it’s almost making me irritated.

“Wes, you’ve done five sweeps. We’re ready to go. We can buy anything we forgot on the road. Plus, aren’t we meeting Ben before we go?”

He appears from the bedroom, an easy grin on his face. “No rush. Ben texted. He’s got other plans in the city. Some woman he met, I guess?” He raises his eyebrows. “You, on the other hand… You look like you’re trying to hurry me along. You look like you really want to get out of here. It’s like you want me to cut corners.” Three long strides across the entryway and he’s swept me up in his arms. Hot damn, he smells good. It doesn’t matter how long we live together. I’m never going to get over the intoxicating, manly scent of him, like leather and a clear day. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and holds it there for a long moment.

Things have been relatively calm since the whirlwind that was opening night. The image of him standing there onstage, flowers in his hands and sorry on his lips, is burned into my brain. In a nice way, I mean. And afterward? Wes and I went back to my apartment—our apartment—and he told me everything. How the explosion had haunted him. How it had wrapped tighter and tighter around his mind until he couldn’t escape it. How the guilt—guilt—tore him in two, and it was only his last-ditch attempt at talk therapy that finally pulled him out, and back to me. It was not easy, sitting in that theater. My heart squeezes thinking about it. We talked until four in the morning, and then…

Well. You know what happened then. A guy spills his heart out like that? With a face like Wes’s? Don’t even get me started on his body.

“Oh, fuck,” I say into his mouth. “You can’t do this to me. I’m dying to get going.”

He puts me down, my feet making contact with the floor. My heart pounds. “You are absolutely right, love. Except for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You forgot something in the bedroom.”

I tsk at him. “There is no way I forgot anything in the bedroom. For one thing, I’ve been playing along with this little planning obsession of yours for five days. Everything’s practically labeled. And it wasn’t me who made us stay up last night to double-check that everything was—”

Wes pulls something from his pocket, presenting it to me on the palm of his hand.

It’s a little velvet box.

Black velvet.

A deep flush of happiness rockets from my toes all the way up to the top of my head. “That’s—”

“That’s a ring box,” Wes finishes for me, looking down at it like it’s so commonplace, to be holding a box like that in his big hand. “In case you were looking for clarification.”

“How could I—” I swallow down an expansive joy so I can get the words out. Holy shit. I didn’t realize I’d feel like this. I didn’t know it would be like sprouting wings and flying away on a warm updraft. It’s so amazing that I feel slightly wine-drunk, and we’re not even close to Vino. “How could I forget something like that? With all your careful planning? Weren’t, you know, weren’t you the one who was supposed to—”

“I wasn’t going to give this to you here.” Wes is fighting off a grin, and when he stops fighting, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “But sometimes it’s good to be spontaneous. Someone I love taught me that.”

Tears. Tears in my eyes. In all my life, I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who dissolved into tears at her own proposal—if that is indeed what this is—but here I am, my vision blurring. I blink them back. I can’t believe he’s doing this. I can’t believe how far he’s come.

How far we’ve come.

“Marry me,” I blurt out. “Wait. Stop. I’m sorry. I thought I’d throw in a twist, and now I’ve completely squashed this moment like a little bug under my heel—”

Wes raises one thick finger and presses it against my lips.

“Whitney Coalport,” he says solemnly. “I’ve loved you since the moment I slammed that door in your face.”

“Highly romantic,” I say around his finger, the words muffled.

“And if you would shut up for two seconds, you would get to hear that I never want to spend another day of my life without you. Even if that means baking in the middle of the night. Even if that means the occasional surprise vacation.”

I want to crack a joke about how everyone loves baking in the middle of the night, and how the midnight cake incident was one time, but my throat is tight with wonder and love. The Wes who shut that door on me wouldn’t have gone on a surprise vacation in a million years. Not that this vacation is anything like a surprise—he’s been planning the trip for three months.

That’s Wes.

“You’re the only one I want to ruin my plans.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. It’s deep and lingering and by the end of it, I’m surprised to find that I’m still wearing panties.

Wes looks into my eyes. “Is that a yes?”

“That’s a hell yes.” He gathers me into his arms again, and I lay a hand against his chest. His heart is pounding, jumping against his rib cage. “Oh, my God, are you okay?”

“Never better.” Wes shoves his hand back into his pocket and grabs the final bag from the floor. Our suitcases are already in the car downstairs. All that’s left is a duffel bag of our road trip essentials. It’s been packed for a week—the last chargers went in this morning, along with the other tidbits we keep on our nightstands.

He takes my hand and heads for the door.

“Hey. Don’t I get to see the ring?”

Wes laughs. “I thought you liked to be surprised.”

“I like to be surpris-ing. There’s a difference.”

“I’ll be in charge of the ring.” He withstands my good-natured harassment all the way to the elevator bank and steps inside. “Ground floor, please.”

I lean down to push the button for the ground floor and when I straighten up, there it is. Nestled in the open box, atop Wes’s palm. A thin silver band, gleaming from its perch, and a solitaire diamond. It takes my breath away.

“Surprise,” he says.

“I love you, too. Are you going to let me wear it?”

He lets out a breath. “I think I have to, now that you’ve seen it.” Wes slips it onto my finger while the elevator glides downward, toward earth. It’s a perfect fit. Goose bumps race from my fingers over my shoulders, down to the base of my spine. I have a ring. Oh, my God, I have Wes’s ring.

He puts an arm around me and presses a kiss to my temple. The elevator glides to a stop and the doors open. For once, I’m speechless.

“There’s one more surprise.”

“What is it?”

“I’m going to let you pick the route.” He turns me toward him, puts two fingers underneath my chin, and raises my face to his. “Do your worst, Whitney Coalport. You want to take us to the ends of the earth, I’ll follow you.”

I think of all the nights he’s spent hunched over his laptop, comparing hotel destinations and traffic patterns, and I can’t do it. “You know what? Let’s not. Let’s do everything according to plan.”

The way he kisses me then is completely off-script.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Let’s give it our best shot.”

Need more Wounded Hearts? If you haven’t read Dayton and Summer’s story, now’s the time. This roller coaster of a romance novel is available on Amazon.