Chapter 28 - The Question on the Mountain
Ethan proposed in October.
He did almost everything wrong.
Which made it perfect.
No photographers.
No hidden violinist.
No champagne.
No expensive resort.
We were inspecting a retaining wall after an early snowstorm.
I wore muddy boots, an old parka, and a wool hat that made my hair look ridiculous.
Ethan spent twenty minutes discussing drainage.
Then he suddenly said, “I want to marry you.”
I stared.
“What?”
He looked horrified.
“That wasn't how I planned to say it.”
I started laughing.
He pulled off one glove.
“Wait.”
“Are you proposing next to a drainage ditch?”
“Apparently.”
I laughed harder.
“Rebecca.”
“Sorry.”
He reached into his coat.
No ring box.
He checked another pocket.
Then another.
“Oh no.”
“You lost the ring?”
“No.”
He searched his backpack.
I sat on a boulder laughing until tears ran down my face.
Finally he found the small box inside a zippered measuring-tape pouch.
“I put it somewhere secure.”
“Extremely romantic.”
“Can I restart?”
“No. This version is better.”
He knelt in the snow anyway.
“Rebecca Miller, I know Michael will always be part of your life.”
My laughter stopped.
“I don't want to replace him. I don't think anybody could.”
Tears rose.
“I want to build whatever comes next with you.”
He opened the box.
The ring was simple.
Elegant.
A sapphire surrounded by small diamonds.
“You once told me the most important part of architecture is understanding what already exists before adding anything new.”
He smiled.
“I love what already exists.”
That did it.
I cried.
“So will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled so dramatically that I laughed again.
“Were you worried?”
“You cross-examined a billionaire in a county conference room. You're terrifying.”
I kissed him.
Snow fell around us.
For a moment, I felt Michael.
Not as a ghost.
Not as a wound.
As part of the road that brought me there.
Vanessa screamed when I told her.
Then immediately said, “I can plan—”
She stopped herself.
I raised an eyebrow.
She corrected.
“I can help with whatever you ask me to help with.”
“Very good.”
“Growth.”
“Remarkable.”
We chose a small wedding.
Thirty guests.
At the lodge.
No vendors Vanessa could secretly rebrand.
No influencers.
No luxury retreat brochures.
Daniel agreed to officiate after obtaining the necessary authorization.
Cassandra was invited.
So were Owen and his wife.
Deputy Walker received an invitation too.
When he opened it, he joked, “I assume this event has valid property-owner authorization?”
“Barely.”
Eleanor received an invitation with one condition.
Come as my mother.
Not as organizer.
Not as rescuer.
Not as critic.
She accepted.
Vanessa asked whether she could stand beside me.
I said yes.
She cried for ten full minutes.
Then I gave her rules.
“No emerald gown.”
“Rude.”
“No business cards.”
“Very rude.”
“No calling yourself hospitality director.”
“Rebecca, I'm offended.”
I smiled.
May you like
“You'll survive.”
For once, she did.
