Page 338 of Wild Card 13

“Strong detective work.”

Dottie opened one eye, assessed him, and closed it again.

Ty looked down at her. “Love you too.”

Her tail tapped once more, regal and dismissive.

He sat beside me on the dock, close enough that his knee brushed mine. It was ordinary. It was one of the hundred small touches that made up a life. His shoulder against my shoulder whilewe brushed our teeth. His hand at the small of my back in the kitchen. His foot finding mine under the blankets. This should have been that.

Only it wasn’t.

I felt the difference after one breath.

Ty was too still. Not tense exactly. Like every part of him had been pulled into the space between us and was waiting for permission to move.

I glanced down.

His hands were in his lap. One of them held a small velvet ring box. The other held a folded note. Ty’s thumb moved over the edge of the ring box, again and again, careful and restless.

“Ty,” I said, and my voice came out too thin.

He looked at me. There was humor in his eyes, but it was buried under something deeper. Something nervous and steady and so painfully tender I felt it in the back of my throat before he said a word. “Before you panic,” he said, “I would like to say I had a plan.”

I stared at him.

He nodded once, as if agreeing with himself. “A good one.”

“Did you?”

“For about nine minutes.”

“That long?”

“I was proud too.” His mouth tried to tip up, but his thumb kept moving over the box. “Then I got back from my run, saw you sitting out here with your notebook and your coffee, and I forgot most of it.”

A laugh broke out of me, too shaky to be useful. It came tangled with the first rush of tears, and I pressed my fingers to my mouth because suddenly I knew. Not all of it, not the shape, not the words, but enough.

Ty held the folded note out to me first.

My hand trembled when I took it. The paper was thick and cream-colored, folded once. My name was written on the front in Ruth Burns’s looping handwriting.

“Ruth gave this to me last week,” Ty said quietly. “With the ring.”

My eyes snapped back to his.

He opened the velvet box. The ring inside was delicate and old-fashioned in the loveliest way. A vintage diamond set in warm gold, small enough to be intimate and bright enough to catch the morning light. The band had the softness of something worn and loved before, the kind of beauty that did not need to announce itself because it had already lasted.

I could not speak.

Ty watched me look at it, and for a second, all the humor left his face. “She said you had to read it out loud before I was allowed to ask you anything.”

My laugh broke again, helpless and wet. “Of course she did.”

“Yeah.” His voice went rough at the edges. “She was very clear. Terrifying, honestly.”

I touched the note with my thumb. The paper bent slightly under my fingers. The lake breeze tried to lift the corner, and I held it down, suddenly afraid it might blow away even though Ty was right there and Dottie had chosen that exact moment to place one possessive paw over my ankle. As if she knew something important was happening and planned to supervise.

I unfolded the note. The handwriting blurred immediately. I blinked hard, then again, and Ty stayed quiet beside me.