“What's that around the corner?” she asks, pointing to a side street that is lined in beautiful trees and wildflowers.
“Not sure,” I say. We take a right, and I notice a ‘for sale’ sign in front of an old building that looks like it's been there for 40 years, maybe more. “Looks abandoned,” I say. “I wonder what this place used to be.”
“An old tavern,” she says, pointing to a half-broken sign.
We step through the front gate, passing a courtyard and a forgotten lawn that's overgrown.
She rubs the glass on a window. “It looks like it was a restaurant at one time,” she says. “Look, there's a bar and some tables.”
As she's saying it, I feel my heart stir. My mind begins to race. “Hey,” I say. “Let's look around back.” Hand in hand, we walk around the building, and there's a large backside to it. Tons of patio space with old brick laid.
“It's beautiful back here,” she says. “It looks like someone completely forgot about this place. You never noticed it?”
I shake my head. “No, and I think I know why.”
“Why is that?” she asks, taking a sip of her coffee and then breaking off a piece of her croissant, popping it into her mouth.
“I don't think I was supposed to find it until right now. Until today, with you.”
“And why is that?” she asks.
“Because I think, I think this is going to be our place.”
“What do you mean, our place?” she asks, not catching on.
“Our restaurant and bakery.”
“Our... restaurant and bakery,” she repeats. “What do you mean?”
“You want to be a baker, right? And make cakes? And, well... I don't know if you remember, but I kind of own a few restaurants. It’s kind of my thing.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I may have heard about that. I think everyone was talking about it a few years back.”
I smiled softly. “Yeah, well... Maybe we could do that right here in Big Bear next to our home.”
“Our home?” Story repeats, her eyes widening. “So I'm moving here now?”
“Would you?” I ask her. “Would you move here with me and open this place?”
“Are you asking me to uproot my entire life and move to a random town with a man I just met a week ago?” she asks, her eyes wide.
I nod, getting down on one knee, then pulling out the ring I bought the day before she came. “Yes, Story Cook, I am. I love you. I figured that out the night we met, and I hoped, God, I fucking prayed that when you came here, it would just confirm what I already knew. That I love you, that I want a life with you.
“And then last night, you made it all so crystal clear. I didn't want a partner who is just going to go along with whatever I said. I wanted a partner who was going to challenge me. Who was going to make me better. That's you. It's fucking you. You are the woman of my dreams. The one I've been waiting for. And then,” I shake my head, pointing to the place, the restaurant, the tavern behind us. “This is right here, literally waiting for us.
“What do you think? Will you be my wife? Will you move to Big Bear and open this place with me? Make all our dreams come true, together?”
I take her hand, hoping she wants the ring.
Tears are in her eyes, and she's shaking. Goddammit, my flower is shaking. She's shaking, and she's scared.
“Oh, Truett Baker, you're giving me more than I ever imagined. Yes, I'll be your wife. Yes, I'll be your person. Your forever. Yes, I'll open this place with you. I'll move to Big Bear with you. I don't want to be in LA alone. I want a life with you. The mountain man of my dreams.”
She flings her arms around me. She doesn't care about the ring. She plants a kiss on my lips, and I take her hand, and I force the ring on that finger.
“I'm making you mine,” I tell her. “This ring will show everyone that you're claimed.”
“Claimed,” she repeats. “By you?”
I nod. “Yes, baby, by me.” I kiss her again. Then I pick her up. I walk over to the door, and I kick it until it opens. Screw the locks. We'll change those anyways. I'm buying this place, and we're going to make it perfect together.
Epilogue 1
Truett
One year later…
The sun is out. The wildflowers are in bloom, sunflowers taller than me. And when Story walks down the aisle in a white dress, her long dark hair in loose curls down her back, holding a bouquet of flowers, freshly cut, pinks and blues that match her eyes and lips, all I can think is my girl looks like a storybook princess.
She looks like a fairy tale brought to life. She looks like my princess, and God am I lucky to be making her my wife.