Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 14190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
“Don’t forget to bring me the lemon meringue pie from the bakery beside your studio.”
I stop in my tracks, already standing at the driver’s side. “Gram, what do you—”
“Just come.”
Gram drops the call, and I’m left staring at my phone. I don’t know what to feel right now, and I can’t seem to function properly. Should I drive to her place, call Tristan, or buy that damn pie? My ability to think under pressure has always been nil. And whenever I’m too anxious or panicky, Tristan is the one I run to first.
But…
If Gram’s seriously hurt, she won’t think about eating pie, will she?
Oh God. What do I do? Tristan’s at work. I remember him telling me we’ll go on a date tomorrow. Maybe he’s in surgery.
Crap. I should leave. But the pie. Goddammit.
Five minutes later, I’m driving to Gram’s home, the pie sitting safely on the passenger seat. I try to call Tristan, but his phone’s unavailable, so maybe he’s still in the operating room.
No matter how desperately I want to run the red lights, I don’t. Gritting my teeth and white-knuckling the steering wheel, I try to remember all the calming techniques I learned in a two-week meditation course, but it’s no use.
For some reason, the universe has decided to test my patience. All the slow, stupid drivers are out in full force, and it takes me half an hour instead of the usual fifteen minutes.
I pull into the driveway and leave everything inside the car, including my phone, only making sure I lock the doors before sprinting towards the house. Halfway to the front door, I remember the pie and curse while I grab it.
My heart pounds, my brain buzzing, when I see the dim lights. Gram hates dim lights and says she’s gonna end up tripping and breaking her neck. Oh God. I hope that’s not it.
I fling the door wide open and cringe when the sound of it slamming against the wall is too loud. The house feels different, but I don’t have time to linger on that fact.
The living room is empty, and so are the kitchen and dining area. Dropping the box on the marble countertop, I run upstairs, scanning each room. She’s not anywhere.
My world tilts, and I brace myself against the balustrade, feeling the smooth hardwood under my fingertips.
Horror dawns on my face when I realize she may be in the back garden, but it’s already night. Still, I need to check out everything before I call the cops.
I stand before the kitchen counter and glance out the window, expecting to see the usual darkness. Instead, I notice something I haven’t before—a soft, twinkling glow from string lights.
I rush toward the back, expecting the worst and unsure of what I will find. Instead of Gram, however, it’s Tristan.
My heart gives an erratic beat.
He’s in a three-piece suit and holding a bouquet in one hand. He stands by the pergola, a table set for two behind him.
“Tristan?”
“Hello, Bun.”
I look behind me. “Gram called. She said she—”
“Had an emergency.” Tristan rubs his jaw, looking apologetic. “I just asked her if she could call you and tell you to come home. I didn’t expect her to be that dramatic.”
Relief washes over me, and I rest a hand on my chest. “Oh God. I thought my heart was gonna burst all the way here.”
Tristan smiles and extends a hand to me. “Come here, Bun.”
I rush straight into his arms, inhaling his favorite scent of citrus, sandalwood, and cedar. I know because I’ve bought him several bottles.
“What is all this, Tris?”
He pulls back and hooks a finger under my chin, grazing my lips with his. “First of all, I’m sorry for the way you had to rush home. I take full responsibility. I should’ve known better than to ask your Gram a simple favor. Second, I love you, Bun. I’ve loved you for fifteen years, and I will continue loving you for the rest of my life—our lives.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I blink them back. “I love you too, Tristan. Only you.”
Tristan smiles and sinks to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box and opening it to reveal a beautiful yellow gold ring with a hexagon-cut diamond and some smaller diamonds.
“Will you marry me, Bun? I know we’ve only been lovers recently, but I knew I wanted to marry you since we were teens. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
A single tear slides down my cheek. “Yes, Tristan. Yes!”
I can’t stop myself from crying anymore and bury my face in his chest. I don’t care even if I look like an absolute mess. I’m so happy and so in love.
I don’t even notice Gram standing behind me until Tristan says, “Will you now let me call you Lucille?”
Gram lets out a sound that might have been a cross between a snort and a laugh. “No. You can call me Gram.”