It's a beautiful day. The sky is bright blue. The air is warm. The sun is shining over the grass.

The cherry blossoms are perfect. Lush and pink and alive.

Lizzy talks to the woman at the admission counter. There's a sign that says Park Closed for Private Event. We're the event.

The woman nods and smiles. It's that oh my God, congratulations smile.

It makes me sick.

She unlocks the gate and ushers us inside.

Thankfully, she remains silent about our lack of wedding attire.

There's something on Lizzy's face—she's nervous.

It's strange.

Lizzy never gets nervous. At least, she never lets me know she's nervous.

We make our way through the rose garden—her favorite. Roses in every shade of red, pink, and purple. She checks if the coast is clear and plucks a deep red rose.

"Lizzy!"

"It's for you." She hands me the flower.

"You're defacing government property for me?"

"That's how much I love you."

"How sweet." I laugh. It feels good. It's still possible to feel good. That's something.

She grabs my free hand and runs forward. "Better get to those cherry blossoms."

Okay, something must be up. She hates running with a fiery passion.

It's only a few hundred feet to the cluster of trees.

They're even more beautiful up close. The soft petals flutter towards the ground, turning the grass pink.

"Um, Kat." Lizzy clears her throat. "So…"

Yeah, something is absolutely up.

I follow her gaze through the cluster of trees, all the way across the lake, to the place where we were going to hold the ceremony.

Blake.

He's standing there. I'm too far away to make out the expression on his face, but it looks like he's holding a bouquet of flowers.

My heart races. He can't be here. This can't be…

If he's here to let me down gently…

I swallow hard.

My feet move of their own accord. They carry me across the bridge, past the paper lanterns strung between the trees, onto the concrete.

He's twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten. One hand is in the pocket of his jeans. The other is holding a bouquet of red roses. His long-sleeved t-shirt is hanging off his shoulders just so. The guy has aloof down to an art. I'll give him that much.

He's awfully good at driving me crazy. I'll give him that too.

He motions to the bouquet. "These are supposed to be for your sister. She helped me organize this."

"She would."

Blake drops the flowers on the ground. "Kat." He runs his hand through his hair. His cheeks turn pink.

Blake Sterling is nervous.

It's adorable.

"Did you mean what you said about Paris?" he asks.

"Yeah." My stomach flip-flops. That must mean… He… I… We… Deep breath. I can't get too excited. Not when he could crush me.

He takes my hands and rubs his thumb against my fingers. His eyes find mine. "I love you, Kat Wilder. I am, as you said, madly in love with you."

My knees go weak, but I manage to hold my ground.

"I think about you constantly. It hurts when you're not around. Something is missing. At first, it confused me. And I don't confuse easily." He squeezes my hands. "I tried working harder, but that didn't help. I couldn't stop thinking about you."

A petal lands on his hair. I brush it off and run my fingers through his hair.

His lips curl into a smile.

It still makes me melt.

It's still everything.

"I tried to deny it. That possibility of never seeing you again cut me some place I've never hurt before. That would have been the worst mistake of my life." He slides his hand around my waist. "I love you."

I hook my arms around his shoulders. Something to help me stay upright. Blake loves me. Blake loves me. Blake loves me.

I'm the luckiest girl in the whole fucking world.

"I love you, too," I say.

His lips find mine.

It's as hot as any of our other kisses, but there's more to it than heat. All his love is pouring into me. All my love is pouring into him.

He's mine.

And I'm his.

And it's perfect.

"Now, how about Paris?" he asks.

"A promise is a promise."

I squeal as he pulls me into his arms. It's just us in the park now. Lizzy is nowhere to be seen. Back at home already.

The park is ours.

The world is ours.

"How long until the flight leaves?" I ask.

"Three hours." He presses his lips into my neck. "But the private jet should be ready as soon as we arrive."

"Wonder what we'll do for three hours," I say.

He squeezes me. "You know exactly what we'll do."

I meet his gaze. "Say it again."

"I love you, Kat Wilder."

"I love you, Blake Sterling."