Page 48 of True Ruin

“I lit the torches, so I’m going up,” Sam said, already on the top stair. “I’ll give her a tour of my bedroom, show her what we want to do when you guys are ready. That’s my part.”

“Don’t spy on us.” Dallas glanced at him, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears. “I’m panicky enough without having to suffer through your exacting notes afterward.”

Dallas waited until Sam’s bedroom door clicked shut before moving to the window beside the front door. Lainey’s taillights were already disappearing between the trees, and Gabi was coming up the lantern-lit path alone.

For one suspended second, he forgot every word he’d rehearsed.

She wore a pale pink sundress with narrow straps and a belt cinched at her waist, the soft fabric curving over her breasts and skimming her hips. Strappy sandals he’d never seen before showed off her gorgeous legs. She’d cut her hair into a pixie a few weeks ago, and the first time he’d seen it, he’d tossed her over his shoulder like some caveman and carried her straight to bed. The style left nothing hidden—the elegant curve of her jaw, the high sweep of her cheekbones, every expression that crossed her beautiful face revealed.

Gabi glanced up and saw him through the glass.

And smiled.

Jesus. There was his whole life, walking toward him.

Her steps slowed as he opened the door, and she took him in from his square-toed lace-ups to the tie he’d nearly strangled himself with. Surprise widened her eyes before heat moved through them, slow and unmistakable, as her gaze dropped to his mouth and then lower.

Every miserable second in the suit became worth it.

“You meant it when you said to dress for a fancy date,” she whispered, slipping her hand into his when he held it out.

He led her inside, then released her to lean back against the door while she wandered farther into the room. Flowers crowded every available surface, champagne waited in a silverbucket of ice, and the familiar music curling through the house made her press one hand to her chest.

“What is this?” she asked, breathless.

He laughed, pushing away from the door. This wasn’t part of the speech he’d rehearsed. “It’s us. It’s second chances.” He turned in a deliberate circle, taking in the stacked lumber, drop cloths, stripped walls, and exposed wiring, hoping she saw the possibilities. “I used to sneak into this house on nights I needed somewhere to escape. It survived all these years of being empty and overlooked, waiting for someone to see what was still here, the grand manor. The entire time, a promise of love flowing through it.” His gaze returned to hers. “Like us. We were only waiting until we knew how to find each other.”

She swallowed hard. “Dallas.”

He couldn’t stay away any longer. Crossing the room, he took her into his arms, one hand sliding into her hair as he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was sweet, gentle, more pledge than passion. They had that in spades, but now he needed her close enough to feel her heart beating against his, needed the quiet certainty that she understood what he was offering her.

She drew back slightly and looked around again, this time with a different kind of wonder. “Do you own this house?”

“Paid for with the advance for my book. I know, it’s fast. I finally found the owner, and I had to move before he changed his mind,” he said, searching her gaze, lamplight catching the sparks of gold in her eyes. Near the color they turned when he slid inside her. “It’s set on five acres, land running right down to the river. There are trails winding through oak and hickory, beneath pines tall enough to make the rest of the world disappear. You won’t believe how beautiful it is. And the kitchen is going to be incredible, all yours to outfit, though I did,um, it hasn’t been installed or anything, but I found a La Cornue?—”

“You didn’t.” Gabi pressed her hand to her mouth, the gasp muffled behind it. “Dallas, those ranges cost more than a car.”

He frowned, knuckling his glasses high, trying to read if she liked that or not. “But it’s the best for baking. Theverybest.”

“And—” She was smiling. He’d bungled the rehearsed speech, but she understood, like always.

Sliding the velvet box from his pocket, Dallas went down on one knee. Call it old-fashioned, even trite, but he was only doing this once, and Gabi deserved the best he had to give, same as that damned range. “There’s a note in the wicker basket. I want you to read it later, when you’re alone. It says everything I’m forgetting now.”

Her hand curled around his wrist, fingers trembling.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Dallas took a breath, absurdly hoping the dimple she loved so much was making an appearance. He needed all the help he could get. “To say I was lost when I came here doesn’t”—he slowly shook his head, smoothing his thumb over the palm of her hand—“come close to the truth. My family was fractured, and most of the time, I was alone. That crowded-room kind of alone we’ve talked about before. You helped me find my way back to myself, make peace with the past, and believe in a future I actually wanted. You’re more than I ever expected life to give me. My only—myonlyfucking fear—is how perfect it feels. I want to keep it, you and Sam, secure from the world, which I know I can’t. But I feel that way anyhow.”

She sank to her knees before him. “Dallas, you did those things for me, too.”

“I want this house to be our safe place, Gab—mine, yours, and Sam’s. Every light fixture, every scrap of wallpaper, every flower in the yard, something we choose together as we build a life. Laughter, tears, passion, you name it. Right here. No ghosts from the past. Not a one.”

“Yes,” she said before he’d even gotten to the question.

Hooking an arm around her neck, he drew her close. “Marry me, Sparkle. As soon as we can. I don’t want to wait another minute.”

Rocking back on her heels, she tapped the box he still held nearly forgotten in his hand. He’d blown his plan to bits. “What’s in here?”