Page 21 of Oops I Fell For The Billionaire Next Door

"That pan needs to be hotter."

"The video says medium high."

"The video is wrong. You want a sear, not a slow death." She reaches past me, cranks the burner. Takes the tongs from my hand. Seasons the steaks with salt that I grind while she holds them over the cast iron. We work together in the kitchen the way we work together in the garden. Her hands, my hands. Her knowledge, my willingness to be taught.

We eat at the table. The one I bought from the same woodworker in Nelson who made the desk. She picked it too. Solid maple, seats four, sanded smooth enough to rest bare arms on.

"Steaks were good."

"You cooked them."

"You seasoned them. Teamwork."

After dinner she showers. The tankless water heater, the one she eventually asked me to help her install after doing the research herself, means she doesn't have to time it anymore. She takes long showers now. Comes out wrapped in a towel, wet braids over one shoulder, skin warm.

"Porch?"

We sit in the Adirondack chairs. Wine in actual glasses tonight because I planned ahead. The sunset is doing something ridiculous over the Selkirks, pink and gold and purple, turning the valley into something from a painting. Her feet are up on the railing. My hand rests on her thigh.

"Beck."

"Yeah."

"The house is done."

"It is."

"You happy with it?"

Looking at our house, our walkway with the thyme she planted, our garden beds, our mudroom with two sets of boots. Looking at her, bare faced, bare shouldered, holding wine in the evening light with soil still under her fingernails because Desireen Laurent never fully washes the garden off her hands.

"Almost."

Her eyebrow goes up. "Almost?"

The ring box is in my pocket. Has been all through dinner, all through the kitchen, weighing approximately nothing and everything. My hand finds it. Pulls it out.

Her wine glass stops halfway to her mouth.

"Beck."

"I was gonna do a speech. Practiced it in the shower. But the thing about you, Desi, is you don't want speeches. You want the truth." Opening the box, the sapphire catches the last of the sunset light. "The truth is I moved to a mountain because I had nothing worth staying anywhere for. Then you showed up on my driveway with mud on your boots and told me I was the worst neighbour on the ridge. And I looked at you and thought, there she is. The person I've been building toward."

Tears are running down her face. She's not wiping them.

"I'm not gonna fix your roof. I'm not gonna buy you things you didn't ask for. I'm gonna show up every morning, get my hands in the dirt, and build this life beside you. On your terms. For as long as you'll let me."

"That's a speech, Rhodes."

"Is that a yes, Laurent?"

She sets the wine glass down. Takes the box from my hands. Looks at the sapphire. Looks at me.

"The stone is beautiful."

"Is that a yes?"

"The setting is perfect."