This is my third visit to the bathroom since Dad’s been in surgery, and it hasn’t even been three hours. My stomach is so upset I can’t keep anything down. Grant got me a water bottle and some crackers from a vending machine, and I threw them all up and then some. I keep telling myself it’s nerves, but truthfully I think it may be a virus. I hope I didn’t pick up the stomach flu or something worse from staying in the hospital for the past couple of weeks.

Dad had to stay in ICU after his first emergency surgery. The doctors weren’t able to repair everything in one go, and they wanted to monitor him while he rested between surgeries. His oxygen levels have been down and other things are wrong with him, too. I don’t understand everything the doctors are saying, but one thing is clear: his life is hanging in the balance every day.

The stress has been terrible, but Grant has been my anchor in the storm. We’ve spent every night clinging to each other on a small lounge chair in my dad’s room. Grant holds me on his lap and whispers sweet nothings to me until I fall asleep. I don’t think he sleeps much, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Now I have to go back to the waiting room and sit some more while we wait to see how this second surgery went. It’s hell waiting for hours to hear if the person you relied on all your life is going to make it or not. Without Grant, I probably would have fallen apart by now.

Grant is waiting for me with a cup of ginger ale when I come back to the waiting room. I sit down next to him and swallow down some bile before taking a sip.

“You okay, angel?” Grant brushes my wild hair back from my face and presses a kiss to my temple.

“I don’t think so,” I tell him honestly. “I think I may have picked up a stomach bug.”

Grant’s lips quirk up, making his dimples pop out. My heart thumps just looking at him. I still don’t know how he manages to be ruggedly handsome and adorable all at once. “Are you sure it isn’t something else?”

Furrowing my brows, I shrug. “I mean, yeah, it could be stress, but I—”

“No, I mean…someone else.” He lays his hand on my belly with a shit-eating grin.

A gasp catches in my throat. Thinking back over the past few weeks, I realize I haven’t had my period in over a month. Usually I have one every twenty-five days on the dot. “Do you think it could be…?”

His lips are on mine before I can blink. He pulls back with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him. “I think you’re mine for eternity now, Squirt.”

I giggle at the use of my old nickname. It doesn’t bother me anymore now that I know beyond a doubt he doesn’t view me as a child. We have history together for sure, but I’m excited now more than ever for our future together. I can put up with a “stomach bug” for a few months if it means that dark-haired, dimpled baby I’ve been dreaming about is on the way.

Now I really hope my dad lives to meet his first grandchild.

Soon, the doctor comes back out to find us. Grant and I stand slowly, looking at each other with uncertainty in our eyes.

The doctor smiles, and I feel the tension leave my shoulders. “Your father came through the surgery and he’s doing very well. The worst is over. He’s in the recovery room waiting for you.”

“Thank God,” I breathe, and Grant squeezes my shoulders. The doctor passes us off to a nurse, who leads us into the recovery room.

When I see Dad, he’s hooked up to some machines and a breathing tube, but there aren’t nearly as many machines as there have been for the past two weeks. I breathe a sigh of relief and walk to his side. He reaches up for my hand even though his eyes are closed.

“Hey, Daddy.” I squeeze his hand, tears building up in my eyes. “How do you feel?”

“I’m…half here.” He chuckles as his eyelids flutter open. “Morphine is a wonderful thing.”

“Yes, it is,” Grant agrees. I look up at him with an unspoken question. “Fall of my senior year in high school. Remember?”

“Oh yeah. The pile-up. You got sacked by the entire other team while playing football.”

It hurts my heart to think about it. I remember visiting Grant in the hospital. It looked like his entire body was in one huge cast. He was hooked up to an IV and kept grinning like a fool. I thought it was because he was proud to have scored the winning touchdown in spite of the pile-up, but now I realize it’s because he was flying high on pain meds.

“You stayed by my side and read me books for hours while our parents talked.” Grant slips an arm around my waist, smiling down into my eyes. “It was what got me through all those broken bones.”

“Cheyenne and Grant.” Dad chuckles deep in his throat. “How did I never see it? I mean, the age difference, clearly, but still…”

“That doesn’t matter to me, Daddy.” I sink down into the hospital bed next to him and take his hands. His poor hands are punctured and mottled by all the needles, but he curls his fingers around mine. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but Grant has always been it for me.” I look up at Grant and smile. “I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember.”

Dad breathes out a long sigh. “Well…to be honest, I can’t think of another man I’d rather entrust my little girl to.” I look at him as his gaze shifts to Grant and turns deadly serious. “You’d better take good care of her, son. I didn’t pour the last nineteen years of my life into raising her just for some other man to leave her brokenhearted.”

“I swear on my life.” Grant pulls me to my feet and turns both of us to face my father. “Sir, there’s something I need to ask you. I hope now isn’t an inappropriate time, but in light of recent events, I’ve realized life is short and everything can change in an instant. I love your daughter, and it would mean the world to me if I could have your blessing to make her my wife.”

My balance fails me for a second, and I sway back and forth in Grant’s arms. If our suspicions are correct, I have pregnancy hormones now, which would explain why I’m suddenly a breath away from passing out.

That, and I’ve been dreaming of this day since I knew what marriage was.

All Dad can manage is a smile and a nod. Grant takes that as his blessing and is down on one knee before I can process what’s happening. He pulls a small black box out of his pocket and opens it, revealing a gigantic princess-cut diamond. It takes some willpower, but I redirect my gaze from the scintillating gem to the beautiful depths of my man’s eyes. They’re so full of sincerity and longing. I can see the years of suffering he’s endured and how desperately he hopes I’ll say yes and at last give us our happy ending.

“Cheyenne Jefferson, I wish I could say that from the moment I met you, I knew you were the one for me. When we met ten years ago, we both had some growing up to do before we were ready for each other. Today, I know without a doubt where my future lies. We have belonged to each other since the beginning of time. Age is just a number, and I’m not about to let numbers get in the way of us. If you will do me the honor of becoming my wife, I’ll show you every day how much I cherish you and the family we’ll build together. Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” The word bursts out of my mouth. He slips the ring on my finger and springs to his feet to plant a kiss on my lips, right in front of my father. A hospital room wasn’t the proposal setting I always dreamed of, but Grant and I have the rest of our life for perfect, “fairytale” moments. As long as Grant Sherwood’s lips are on mine, his arms are around my waist, and his ring is on my finger, it will be a beautiful life.