Page 132 of Give Her Time

One and a half years later …

The sprawling domes of Yosemite rival the intensity of the sun at its noon peak. It’s hot, and I’m dying. I can only imagine how Noah feels in his uniform as he paces back and forth behind me. Why he isn’t looking ahead at the views is beyond me, but at least Max dutifully rests at my side.

I love it up here, the place I met both Max and Noah for the first time. Granted, I think I prefer the weather in October as opposed to the sickly hot of July. Sweat rolls down my back as I flap my shirt behind me, airing out the dampness. I have a catering job with Mitch tomorrow, and the location isnotair-conditioned. I huff out a string of Rose-approved expletives.

Noah finally steps up beside me and pats Max’s head. “So, I have a confession,” he says.

I turn, the smile on my face falling at his downturned expression. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but I may have done something …” His tight lips turn upward into a smirk.

I roll my eyes. “What?”

He reaches into his back pocket, and I take the time to study the earthy swirl in his eyes as they dance with anticipation. He runs a hand over his head. “I probably should’ve asked you first, but they were going fast, and I had to make a split decision.”

He hands me a photo of a tiny little puppy. A Belgian Malinois.

My heart flips.

It’s tiny, no bigger than a loaf of bread. With oversized paws and ears, its fur looks soft, even from a shitty printed photo. Its coloring is darker than Max’s, a warm fawn color with a shadowy mask around its eyes and muzzle. Its eyes look wide and serious, yet adorably cute.

“Figured Max could use a bodyguard.”

I look up at him, then back down to the photo.

“He’s four weeks old, and he’ll be ready to go in another five.” He hooks a finger in the waistband of my hiking shorts and pulls me closer to him. “Talk to me. Are you mad?”

He. It’s a male. I don’t know how I could love another dog, especially having met Max, but hell this little puppy’s face is perfect. Definitely not mad.

“Where is he? Can we go see him? Do you think Max will like him? What should we name him? I like the name Knox. Actually, no, what about?—”

Noah laughs. “We can go visit him, and I figured Max could help pick the name with a game or something. But Lil … flip it over. Please.”

He’s all serious again, with an earnest expression that knots my stomach and makes more sweat seep into my clothing. I do as instructed and freeze at the words he’s written there.

Marry me?

I stare and stare at his handwritten words, all crisp, clean, and utterly beautiful. When I look up, he’s on one knee with Max by his side. “Marry me, Lily. Be my wife.”

He pops open a tiny black box to offer a brilliant round diamond on a thin platinum band. It’s gorgeous, but it doesn’t hold my attention. It’s the tears in his eyes, the way his hand squeezes Max a little too tight as he awaits an answer. He’s the best view in this damn park.

I drop to my knees to meet him. “Bet you twenty bucks you already know my answer …” I whisper.

Fisting his uniform, I pull him toward me and kiss him.

The End