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“Hello, Bun.”
I look behind me. “Gram called. She said she?—”
“Had an emergency.” Tristan rubs his jaw, looking apologetic. “I just asked her if she could call you and tell you to come home. I didn’t expect her to be that dramatic.”
Relief washes over me, and I rest a hand on my chest. “Oh God. I thought my heart was gonna burst all the way here.”
Tristan smiles and extends a hand to me. “Come here, Bun.”
I rush straight into his arms, inhaling his favorite scent of citrus, sandalwood, and cedar. I know because I’ve bought him several bottles.
“What is all this, Tris?”
He pulls back and hooks a finger under my chin, grazing my lips with his. “First of all, I’m sorry for the way you had to rush home. I take full responsibility. I should’ve known better than to ask your Gram a simple favor. Second, I love you, Bun. I’ve loved you for fifteen years, and I will continue loving you for the rest of my life—our lives.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them back. “I love you too, Tristan. Only you.”
Tristan smiles and sinks to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box and opening it to reveal a beautiful yellow gold ring with a hexagon-cut diamond and some smaller diamonds.
“Will you marry me, Bun? I know we’ve only been lovers recently, but I knew I wanted to marry you since we were teens. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
A single tear slides down my cheek. “Yes, Tristan. Yes!”
I can’t stop myself from crying anymore and bury my face in his chest. I don’t care even if I look like an absolute mess. I’m so happy and so in love.
I don’t even notice Gram standing behind me until Tristan says, “Will you now let me call you Lucille?”
Gram lets out a sound that might have been a cross between a snort and a laugh. “No. You can call me Gram.”
EPILOGUE
ALLIE
It’s a beautiful life. Not perfect, no. But beautiful all the same.
I mean, it helps that we’ve recently moved into our first house after living in an apartment for years. It’s not just any house, either. It’s the mansion from Gram’s ex.
When Tristan once mentioned asking whether the homeowner would consider selling it, Gram—after debating hard how far she’d go for her new grandson-in-law—went and talked to her ex. There might have been some screaming involved, and I wasn’t sure if it was because they had an argument or if he was having difficulty hearing her. After all, he’s three years older than Gram.
Anyway, while we were having dinner, Gram called us home and dropped the news like it was nothing. Tristan, after recovering from his shock, was so happy and excited that he hugged Gram. Gram who wasn’t a fan of hugging. Gram who hated physical contact with people other than me.
We tried to convince her, but Gram refused to live with us. Not surprising at all. She had two reasons. One, it would take only ten minutes to get to her house by car. Two, she didn’t want to see Tristan’s face 24/7, especially in the morning.
Even though her default face is scowling or frowning or glaring at him, I know deep down she loves him as much as she loves me. I haven’t told him yet, but he’s her speed dial 1.
I’ve just loaded the last batch of plates into the kiln when I hear the rumble of Tristan’s car in the garage. Yep, the same car we had sex in. He refuses to let it go because, according to him, it “holds too many memories”. And by ‘memories’, he means us in the backseat going at it like a pair of animals. I still blush furiously whenever I remember all the things we did and the things he said.
We’ve converted the big room next to the garage and used it as my studio, so it’s there where he finds me. The door opens, and my husband appears. He’s wearing his usual after-work clothes—a band shirt, denim jeans, and sneakers. God, I still can’t get over how handsome he looks even after all these years.
I feel the tingling in my core the moment my eyes land on him. This man comes home to me every day, and there’s nothing I want more.
Tristan smiles and pulls me in for a kiss. “I missed you, Bun.”
Careful not to smudge him with the dirt on my hands, I clasp them together behind me and kiss his jaw. “I missed you too. You hungry? Dinner’s ready.”
He cups my ass and pushes me against his crotch. “You know, maybe we can skip dinner and head straight for dessert.”
As tempting as that sounds, I know he’s gonna love what I made for him. “Depends if you want to leave the potato gnocchi cold.”
