Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
“She’s a hard nut to crack,” she teases, as Minnie sprawls out next to her.
“And I’m hard to resist,” I huff as Scarlett walks over to wrap her soft arms around my waist.
“Yes, you are.” She smiles up at me. “Very hard to resist.”
As the days pass, I enlist every tactic in my repertoire. Treats, toys, and even attempts at subtle bribes disguised as affection all fail to win over the determined feline. She stubbornly refuses to acknowledge my presence as anything more than a nuisance.
On the last day of our retreat, Scarlett wanders out of the bedroom, her hair a glorious mess and those bright, lazy eyes just waking up from a midafternoon nap. “Any progress?” she asks, amusement evident in her tone.
“She’s tough,” I admit, throwing a glance at Minnie, who’s currently examining her territory from the highest perch on the cubby shelves in the living room. “I’m trying everything, but it’s like the more I try, the more she resists my efforts.”
Scarlett shakes her head, clearly entertained. “Don’t worry. Eventually, she’ll give in. You’re hard to resist.”
“Tell that to the feline overlord,” I reply, sinking back onto the couch. “At this rate, I’m going to need therapy after this vacation. The emotional toll of wooing a cat is unreal!”
"Speaking of the end of our vacation," she says, breaking through my thoughts with that ever-present hint of sass, "What’s the plan when we head back to New York?"
I can hear the underlying uncertainty and know I have to make my intentions clear so we don’t have any misconceptions between us. I’ve been planning this for the last few days. I even managed to have a fancy ass ring delivered to the little grocery store in town so I’d have the tools I need to pull it off.
"Funny you should ask," I start, trying to keep my voice steady as my pulse pounds heavily.
I've replayed these words in my mind countless times over the last few days, but all my speeches fly right out the window as I take a breath and drop to my knees. Her surprise is instant, eyes widening as she processes the gesture and the velvet box now in my grasp.
"Scarlett,” I say, my voice finding strength in the earnest weight of the moment, "I’ve been in love with you from the beginning. Please put me out of my misery and agree to marry me and share custody of the spoiled princess.”
Everything around us falls away, the world a silent vacuum against the sound of Scarlett’s laughter, a bright, pure expression of something unhindered and uninhibited. The joy in it spikes something raw and wonderful inside me.
“Yes! Yes, of course!” Her answer ripples out, and the relief, the exuberant joy crashes through me in one overwhelming wave.
The ring settles onto her finger, and there’s a tangible shift in the air as if marking this step forward toward our future.
"You know this means you’re stuck with us for life?" she teases with a genuine and sweet smile plastered across her face.
“Damn right, it does,” I growl, pulling her into my arms. “I’m never letting you go.”
“That sounds like a plan to me.” She smiles up at me while the feline dictator rubs up against my ankles, wanting her own share of the attention.
Epilogue
Scarlett
It’s been four years since the snowstorm that changed everything, and life has become a mix of chaos and laughter, love and work. Today, I’m sitting behind my desk at the office, trying to wrap things up before I go on maternity leave.
Our little girl is due in two weeks, and I’m feeling both excitement and the pressure of leaving things in good order for my colleagues.
Noah and I have built quite a life together. From that first nerve-wracking interview to shared coffee mornings to being partners in this crazy, wonderful endeavor. He’s still my boss, technically, but more importantly, he’s my husband, and my partner in crime. He insisted on tearing up any prenup our lawyers drafted, instead choosing to sign over half of everything he owned to me the day we said our vows. It was his way of saying we’re in this together, with no reservations and no takebacks.
I glance at the multitude of spreadsheets open on my computer, trying to make sense of numbers that seem to blur more and more these days. At home, our two-year-old son, Jason, likely has the babysitter chasing him from one end of the house to the other. That boy is nothing short of a whirlwind, with his father’s charm and my stubborn determination.
As I pause, massaging the ever-stubborn ache in my back caused from sitting too long, Noah strolls in, a familiar, easy grace in his step.
In his arms is a massive bouquet of flowers, bright and vibrant, smelling like spring even though it’s decidedly winter outside.