Page 97 of Something’s Brewing

He let out a soft breath. “Then you walked in wearing a mask and a shimmery blue gown, and somehow I felt like I could see you anyway.”

Madison blinked fast, trying to hold back tears.

“I remember thinking how confident you were,” he went on. “How steady. Like you already knew exactly who you were, even when the rest of us were pretending.”

Her hand lifted unconsciously to her shoulder, brushing her constellation tattoo.

“I didn’t know your name,” he said. “Didn’t know where you were from. All I knew was that when I took your hand, something shifted.”

He reached for her hand, and his thumb moved over her knuckles, grounding him in the present.

“That electric feeling? I tried to forget it,” he went on. “Tried to tell myself it was just the music. The lights. The mystery of the night.”

Madison shook her head slightly, tears spilling now.

“I almost convinced myself I imagined you,” he admitted. “And then you walked back into my life at the auction and decided I was worth bidding on. Somewhere between that moment and the night I almost lost you, I realized the connection we felt at the masquerade wasn’t just a memory. I hadn’t imagined anything . . . I’d just been waiting for you to come back to me.”

Her laugh broke through her tears, soft and breathless and full of emotion.

“I’ve never been more terrified than the night I thought I might lose you,” Garrett said. His voice thickened. “Not because we’d just started something, but because I’d already lost you once. At that masquerade.”

She reached for him then, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt as if she needed to feel him there.

He covered her hand with his.

“Madison Mitchell, you turned one anonymous night into the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said. “You made me braver. You made me believe I could have more than just plans and responsibilities and obligations.”

He drew a shaky breath.

“You made forever feel possible.”

Madison was openly crying now, smiling through it, nodding as if she couldn’t stop.

Garrett’s voice roughened slightly. “I’ve spent a lot of my life building things—plans, businesses, walls when I needed them. But loving you didn’t feel like work. It felt like coming home.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Madison,” he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, “You turned one anonymous night into a life I don’t want to live without.”

Garrett removed a ring box from his pocket and lowered himself to one knee.

“I don’t want just memories with you,” he said softly. “I want mornings. Disagreements. Laughter. Snowstorms and summer festivals and every ordinary Tuesday in between.”

He opened the ring box. “I want every road I walk to lead back to you.”

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Madison Mitchell, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Down on the beach, laughter drifted across the lake as friends and family celebrated around bonfires and strings of lights. Up on the wide wooden deck of the Blue Ox restaurant overlooking the sandy shore below, five women sat in a loose circle, wrapped in shawls and armed with steaming mugs of coffee and very determined expressions.

Elsie held up a finger and placed the FaceTime call. She held her phone up so the group of ladies around her could see. “Well,” she said as the call was picked up. “That went exactly as planned.”

Eve’s face appeared on-screen. “I couldn’t have done it without you all,” she said.