Page 33 of Marry Me Tomorrow
She tugs back slightly, but I hold on, desperate for her to understand. “But if I had to pick the perfect person to do this with, I couldn’t have imagined, never in my wildest dreams, anyone better than you. You’ve turned something that could’ve been awkward and stressful into something . . . amazing. I’m excited to marry you.”
Her lips part, surprise softening her features. “Seriously? You’re not just saying that?”
I nod, my voice firm. “I’m serious. As serious as the fact that kissing you last week was the highlight of my year so far.”
A huge smile spreads across her face.
“And,” I say, my voice turning more serious, “I would never ever do what your parents did. I would never leave you, Jenny.”
When I pull her into a hug, it feels as natural as breathing. Her tension melts away as she relaxes against me, and the world outside the shop fades to nothing.
After a moment, we pull apart, and she resumes tidying the counter, though her movements are slower, more thoughtful now. “So then, what’s been on your mind if it’s not the wedding?”
“Oh, the wedding’s definitely on my mind,” I admit, leaning on the counter as the late sunlight catches the highlights in her hair. “That, and trying to declutter some of my stuff so that you have space when you move in.”
She pauses, a hint of teasing in her tone. “I could’ve helped with that, you know.”
Neither of us has had the time to do much more with the house, since we’ve been so busy with wedding planning. And after our kiss, I don’t want to tempt myself with being so near her, but I know that’s going to be all for naught when she moves in the night before the wedding. I need to rein in my emotions because I don’t want to scare her away. I need her to stick to the agreement not only because otherwise the marina is pretty much gone but also because I’m hoping I can convince her to stay with me past the year we agreed on.
“I know,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “But you shouldn’t have to help with my things. Besides, I didn’t mind. It’s just . . . getting used to this new normal.”
Her lips twitch into a small smile, but she doesn’t push further. Instead, she changes the subject. “My painting is coming along great, by the way. The views around the lake have been really inspiring. I’m trying something new, but it’s not ready for anyone to see yet. Maybe soon, though—if you’d want to see it.” She tucks a stray hair behind her ear before making eye contact with me.
I can see the joy and excitement, but also the nervousness in her eyes. I hate whatever put that there, whatever caused her to think she isn’t the greatest, most talented person I’ve ever met.
The vulnerability in her voice stirs something in me. “Of course I want to see it. Maybe you could even paint something for the house, to hang in the bonus room upstairs.”
Her eyes widen. “You don’t mean that.”
“Sure, I do. You’re talented.”
“How would you even know?” she asks, skepticism tinged with curiosity. “You’ve only seen a few paintings here and there.”
“And just from those, I know you’re talented. And . . .” I kick the toe of my shoe against the counter before finally admitting, “when we made our arrangement, I looked you up. I wanted to see your work—to get to know you better. If I was going to marry you, I felt like I should know all of you. You know?”
She’s silent for a moment, and I look up to find her watching me, her expression soft and unreadable. “You did that?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? Jenny, I’d be proud to have your art in our home.”
Her expression softens further, and a wistful smile tugs at her lips. “My grandma Cora would’ve loved you. She was the artistic one in the family—she’s where I get it from.”
“I didn’t know that.” I lean against the counter as she talks and finishes wiping down her workspace. “I remember your grandma. Every now and then, Henry would bring her to the marina for a picnic, and I got to meet her. She was a very sweet lady.”
“She was the best,” Jenny agrees, nodding. “I can’t believe you met my grandparents before we officially met. I wish I could have asked Grandma Cora what she thought of you.”
“She loved me, of course,” I say waving at myself like I am Vanna White and just showcased a new letter.
“I do think she would have loved you. Grandma Cora had a love for all things fun in life. She saw the world in a way that others couldn’t. It’s why she was an artist. She used to say that art could show people the beauty in the world, even when they couldn’t see it themselves.” Her voice falters slightly, but she continues. “When she got too sick to go out, I’d paint by her bedside. I wanted to bring the world to her, to remind her of all the beauty out there.”
“That must’ve been hard, losing her.”
Jenny nods, her smile bittersweet. “It was, but she’s with me every time I pick up a paintbrush.”
Coming around the counter, she swats my arm playfully. “We’d better hurry or we’ll be late. How long does it take to get to your parents’ place?” She heads toward the door, and I follow her.
“About forty-five minutes by road,” I say, locking the shop door behind us as we step outside, “but only ten if we take the boat.”
She grins, the setting sun casting a golden glow across her face.
