Page 166 of Sparks Fly

I laughed because the comment sounded so casual that I assumed she was joking, but then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring. The conversation that followed was short and uncomplicated. Sawyer looked at me with the kind of quiet certainty that made it impossible to doubt what she meant, and she said, “Marry me,” in the same calm tone she used when asking if I wanted coffee in the morning.

I said yes before she finished the sentence.

Our engagement had been short after that because neither of us wanted to stretch the process into something elaborate. I had spent enough of my life organizing events and managing expectations to know exactly how overwhelming wedding planning could become if you let it. Sawyer didn’t care about a long engagement either, and once we realized we both preferred something simple the decision felt easy.

We chose a date, found a venue we liked, and promised each other that the rest of the details would stay secondary to the reason we were there.

My phone buzzed softly against the vanity beside me, pulling me back to the present. I picked it up and saw a message from a client asking if I could show a townhouse the next afternoon. I typed back a quick response before setting the phone down again with a quiet laugh, because some things had not changed at all.

I was still working constantly, still answering messages between appointments and juggling showings with closings. The difference was that I loved it now in a way that felt uncomplicated. The past year had been the most successful year of my career, and I had learned that I genuinely enjoyed the fast pace of real estate. I loved walking through empty houses and imagining the lives people would build inside them, and I loved the moment when someone realized a space could become their home.

The job itself was the same one I had always had, but it finally felt like something I had chosen for myself instead of something that fit a version of my life other people understood.

I glanced around the bridal suite and noticed the framed photo sitting beside the mirror. Sawyer and I stood in front of a small blue house with a wide porch and a crooked oak tree leaning over the yard. The photo had been taken the day we closed on the place, both of us squinting into the sunlight while our realtor tried to get us to stop laughing long enough for the picture.

We had bought that house eight months earlier.

It was not enormous or particularly grand, but it was perfect for us. The kitchen was bright and open, the living room had enough space for our friends to gather comfortably, and the garage had become Sawyer’s workshop within the first week after we moved in. I still remembered standing in the doorway one evening watching sparks jump from her welding torch while music played too loudly from a speaker in the corner. In that moment it had occurred to me that the life we were building together felt more natural than anything I had spent years trying to construct before.

Sawyer and Benji had purchased the shop together about six months after the accident.

The paperwork had taken longer than either of them wanted and there had been more meetings than Sawyer preferred, but once everything was finalized the business began growing faster than they expected. Orders kept coming in, their client list expanded steadily, and Sawyer talked about new projects with a kind of enthusiasm that made it obvious she was proud of what they had built.

My parents had visited the shop once.

My father spent almost half an hour asking Sawyer questions about the equipment while pretending he was not impressed, and my mother watched them both with an expression I was still learning how to interpret.

I adjusted one of the small pins holding my hair in place just as the door opened behind me.

Ashley walked into the suite holding a champagne glass and stopped in the middle of the room when she saw me. She tilted her head slightly as she took in the dress and the overall effect.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “I just want to say that if you cry again today, I’m leaving.”

I turned away from the mirror and crossed my arms loosely. “I cried one time.”

Ashley stared at me with open disbelief. “Addison, you cried at the rehearsal dinner over the seating chart.”

“That was emotional overwhelm,” I said.

Lilly stepped into the room behind her with Lauren close behind, and Lilly’s expression softened as soon as she looked at me.

“You look beautiful,” Lilly said.

Lauren nodded immediately. “You really do. That dress is ridiculous in the best way.”

Ashley leaned against the vanity beside me and shook her head. “You’re going to ruin all the photos by crying.”

“I am not going to cry,” I insisted.

Lilly lifted an eyebrow and folded her arms. “You cried yesterday when Sawyer thanked the catering staff.”

“That was different,” I said.

Lauren laughed softly and reached out to smooth a fold in my skirt. “You’re in love,” she said. “It happens.”

Ashley gave Lilly a knowing look. “Addison has been staring at Sawyer like that for a year and a half.”

Lilly smiled slightly and glanced toward the door. “For what it’s worth, Sawyer is downstairs pacing like she’s about to walk into a job interview.”