He shakes his head, satisfaction spreading across his face. “No. The answer is where I’m going to ask you to make me the happiest man in the world.”
I gasp as he drops down to one knee on the Willa Cather plaque, reaches for a royal-blue velvet box from his pocket, and flips it open. “Lulu Diamond, will you marry me?”
My heart executes backflips. “Yes! A million times, yes.”
I hold out my hand, and he slides a ring on my finger as tears rain from my eyes. He stands, takes me in his arms, and kisses me in front of Manhattan, in front of the whole world, with a breathlessness and hope that makes me feel like we could be on a postcard.
A few months later, I take George up on his chocolate fountain offer, much to the consternation of my husband-to-be.
Leo protests till he’s blue in the face.
It’s messy. It’s gross. It’s a vat of germs.
My response? It’s fun.
We compromise and order one for our rehearsal dinner, instead of the wedding.
Confession: it is messy. But it’s a blast as I pop strawberries onto skewers and dip them. Cameron willingly plays the role of fountain police, and he and Mariana make excellent sergeants, ensuring no one dips in a finger or a face.
That’s not the only chocolate at the festivities. We also give away our new chocolate collection to all our guests. I’m thrilled with how the Rising Star collection turned out. We call it Kissed by Chocolate, and the chocolates are packaged in art deco wrappers of stylized kiss paintings, with constellations of stars printed on the inside. They also outsold Frodo’s chips last quarter, and Kissed by Chocolate tops all the Heavenly lines too.
Seems, in our own way, that we won the team-building competition after all.
Our wedding the next day is a simple affair. Leo’s parents are here, along with his brothers, my mother and her boyfriend, Cameron and his mystery woman, Mariana, Dean and Fitzgerald, George, his wife and the babies, Kingsley and her husband, and Ginny and Noah, who are inseparable and next in line for vows, thanks to the ring Noah gave her last month.
Tripp’s mom is here too, and that means a lot to me.
My mother doesn’t give me away this time. I’m my own person, with my own dreams, my own goals, and I don’t belong to anyone else. That’s why this marriage will be different than my first.
Because Leo and I are sturdier than a three-legged stool. We’re a pair, the kind whose bonds don’t break. Sometimes life gives you a second chance at love, and if you’re lucky enough to spot it and wise enough to seize it, you better be strong enough to keep it.
I am.
We are.
And we will be.
EPILOGUE
Leo
A week later
A tropical breeze blows through the open shutters. Stretching, I swing my legs off the bed.
The morning sun of my Costa Rican honeymoon floods the suite. My wife’s not here. She left a note that she was out for a morning walk.
I head to the bathroom, brush my teeth, run a hand through my hair, then meander to the deck to enjoy the sun and the coconut-scented air that reminds me of her.
Then again, nearly everything reminds me of her, but the reminders no longer hurt. They don’t mock me with what I can’t have. They’re a promise of all that I’m so lucky to call my own.
I pop in an audiobook and get lost in the modern history of this country. A few minutes later, the door snicks open, and I remove my earbuds.
“Morning, handsome.”
Lulu’s wild hair is even wilder here, framing her beautiful face. She waggles a white paper bag. “Rice and beans, flan, some mangoes, and I have coffee too.”
She sets the breakfast on the table on the deck, as the sun hoists itself higher over the ocean.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Oh, I also found this with the breakfast.”
She hands me a postcard of a couple kissing on the beach. Probably something she picked up at a local souvenir shop. “What’s this for?”
“Why don’t you take a look?”
I flip it over to find her handwriting.
My eyes widen, and my skin prickles with excitement chased by hope. “For real?”
Her smile touches my soul as she whispers, “For real.”
I cup her cheeks and kiss her, then read her words aloud. They’re the best words she’s ever written to me, and that’s saying something.
“What’s a little bit of you, a little bit of me, still all new, and arrives in a birthday suit?”
