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What if someday he regrets asking me?

Those questions still exist. They probably always will.

But there’s another question now.

One I’ve finally learned to ask before all the others.

What do I want?

And the answer is standing right in front of me.

“Yes.”

Wyatt pulls back slightly. “Yeah?”

I nod, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

“Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

His grin spreads across his face. “Fuck yes.”

He drops the key onto the counter, grabs me around the waist, and lifts me off my feet.

I squeal as he spins me around. “Wyatt!”

“Sorry, can’t hear you. Too busy celebrating.”

I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He finally stops spinning, but he doesn’t put me down.

Instead, he kisses me.

Only then does he put me down.

I reach for the key on the counter. The little peach fits perfectly in my palm.

I run my thumb over it. “It’s cute.”

“Had it specially made.”

“Really?”

“Yep. The guy at the hardware store thought I was proposing.”

I burst out laughing.

“Apparently everyone thinks that when you buy a small box.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

He slips his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder.

I lean back against him.

For a while, we just stand there.

Pickles eventually gives up on the hockey bag and wanders over, settling at our feet with a dramatic sigh.