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“I don’t know,” I say, pulling her toward me, snaking an arm around her waist. “I figured we’d sleep on the beach, maybe look at the stars.”

“And?”

“And . . . that’s it.”

“Briggs,” she chides.

“Okay, fine. I did have something else in mind.”

I pull away from her, taking a step back and giving myself enough room for what I’m about to do.

“Are you ready?” I ask her.

“I am,” she nervously replies.

“Should we look at the stars first?”

“Briggs Gatsby Dalton.”

“Okay, fine,” I tell her, and then push my glasses up my nose. Time to be serious.

Slowly, I get down on one knee, still holding her hand. “Presley,” I start. “I think I fell for you that first day when I dumped iced coffee all over you.”

She lets out a laugh, tears brimming in her eyes.

“And I’m pretty sure I knew I was falling in love with you after you jumped into my arms in the ocean when you were scared by some seaweed.”

“It was a fish,” she interjects.

“Shhh,” I say, tugging on her hand. “I’m trying to propose here.”

“Oh right,” she says. “Carry on.”

“I love your determination, your unwavering drive, and your tenacity in the face of challenges. I love your humor and the sound of your laughter. I love how you care for others, how you make me feel valued and appreciated. I want to be worthy to be by your side, and promise to work every day to be so.”

She’s crying now, and I can’t help but feel choked up myself. I reach into my pocket and pull out the black velvet box that I’ve been holding on to for four-and-a-half months now.

“So, Presley Renee Shermerhorn,” I say, opening the box and holding it out toward her. “Will you marry me?”

She doesn’t look down at the ring, but keeps her eyes on me instead.

“Yes,” she says, a single tear falling down her face.

“Yes?” I ask, making sure I heard her right. I don’t even know why I ask; it just feels like the thing to do.

“Yes,” she says, laughter in her voice. “I want to marry you right now, Briggs Gatsby Dalton.”

“Do you want to see the ring?” I ask, still holding it in my hand.

“Oh,” she says, sniffling. “Yes, the ring. I almost forgot about that part.”

I stand up, holding it out toward her, and when she looks at it, her lips pull into a huge smile.

“It’s a sun,” she says, looking up at me, another tear falling down her cheek.

I nod. I knew it was perfect when I saw it in the store—a round center diamond surrounded by smaller ones, arranged like rays. A sunburst is what it’s called.

“Since we met in the summer, in Sunset Harbor, I figured it was kind of perfect.”

She nods. “It’s the most perfect ring ever.”

“It’s for all the happy summers we get to have together,” I say.

She reaches up on her toes and kisses me. “I can’t wait.”