The hardest thing had been leaving Jaime and Claire and our weekly Girls Night Out, but I saw them at least once a month, and they were happy for me. At first, I kept my job at Shine but cut back my hours, spending a lot of time helping Georgia with the new house, preparing to open the Valentini Farms Bed & Breakfast, and making sure the new marketing push went as planned. Once the B & B opened in May, I left Shine and dedicated myself completely to marketing duties at the farm and inn. I also volunteered for the Fair Food Network, reaching out to farmers and families in the region and continuing to help spread the word.
I’d never been happier, which befuddled my parents a little bit, but they seemed content to focus on my father’s political career—he’d won his election—and give me a break.
Jack seemed happy too, and we’d grown infinitely closer since I’d moved in. His moods and silences grew easier to understand, his anxiety easier to manage. His nightmares were infrequent but terrifying, and I always wished there was more I could do for him, but he swore just having me there was enough. He loved me—I felt it, even if he didn’t say it too often.
I sat up in bed and looked around. He’d left the blinds down, so it was still pretty dark in the room, but sun peeked around them. I glanced at the clock, which told me it was just after eight. “Jack?” I called.
Nothing.
There was no way he’d forgotten, because we’d talked about it before going to sleep. It wasn’t like Jack to break a promise. I lay back again and gave it about ten minutes, then I sighed and threw back the covers. Maybe there was an emergency across the street?
I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and went downstairs. The front door was open, so I looked out on the porch. No one was there, although I noticed his truck was gone.
What the hell? It’s like he forgot all about me.
Grumpy that a morning in bed was not on the horizon, I went into the kitchen. He hadn’t even made coffee!
Angrily I poured the water and scooped the grounds, then crossed my arms and pouted while it dripped. The dumb old thing took forever, but Jack was funny about letting me replace things around here. Not because he was attached to them, but because he had a hard time letting me buy things for his house. “I live here,” I kept telling him. “Isn’t it my house too?”
He always said yes, of course it was, and hugged me in apology. Recently we’d had a long talk about redoing the kitchen, and when he balked at the cost of stone counters and tile floors, I’d put my foot down. “Listen. I am not trying to buy your love. I am trying to add a little bit of luxury to our lives because I like it and I can afford it and I’m spoiled, OK? You won’t let me buy Brad out, so at least let me buy the damn countertops.”
He’d grumbled about it but eventually caved, and a man was coming to take measurements this week. I was excited about it—I loved living up here with Jack, but I did miss a few things from my old life. And some high-end finishes in this beautiful old farmhouse could only make it better. I’d sweet talk him into things. I was good at that.
The smell of fresh coffee perked me up, and I turned around to reach for a mug. That’s when I noticed the note on the counter.
Had to run out. Back later. Can you collect the eggs?
I groaned. Not only had he forgotten about his promise, he’d asked me to do my least favorite farm chore. For some reason, I could not get comfortable with it. Those hens hated me, I could tell.
But I dutifully put on my boots, grabbed a basket, and trudged over to the coop.
The hens clucked at me as I entered. “Yeah, I know. Good morning to you, too.”
I checked the first box, and there was only one egg in there. I reached for it, scooped it up, and put it in the basket. The second box only had one as well, and when I went to place it next to the first, I noticed it had something written on it.
You’re beautiful.
It made me smile. I turned the first one over, and the smile widened.
Good morning.
The writing was undeniably Jack’s, and I looked around, expecting to see him standing there. He wasn’t.
I went to the third box and pulled out the egg.
Did you think I forgot?
I started giggling, my pulse picking up. He did remember! And look at him being clever and romantic!
Grinning, I reached into the next box and took out the egg.
I love you.
And the next…
I will always love you.
My hands were shaking as I reached into the last box in the row.
Turn around.
Gasping, I spun around.
And there he was—going down on one knee.
My heart stopped.
He opened a ring box and held it out, his expression surprisingly calm, his dark eyes glinting. “I’m not saying I deserve you, Margot Thurber Lewiston, only that I’ll keep trying as long as you’ll let me. I’ve never loved anyone or anything the way I love you. You brought everything good back to my life—you brought me back to life, and I want to spend it with you. Will you marry me?”
I stood there, literally shaking in my boots, while I tried to find the wherewithal to move, talk, breathe, anything. A few tears slipped down my cheeks. “Yes,” I squeaked, still clutching the basket.
“Want to put the eggs down, baby?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.
Nodding, I set the last egg carefully in the basket and put it on the ground. Then I moved closer to Jack and held out my hand, sobs working their way free from my chest. The ring winked at me from a black velvet Tiffany cushion, a gorgeous round solitaire set in a platinum band. My hand trembled as he slipped it on my finger.
I’d thought the ring that Tripp had chosen was perfect, but this one—this one—was my ring. Simple yet exquisite. Modern yet classic. Perfection.
“I love it,” I sobbed, unable to stop myself.
He rose to his feet, laughing a little. “I’m glad. The way you’re crying, I might have wondered.”
I threw my arms around him and he held me tight, lifting me right off my feet. “I love you,” he said in my ear. “I want this forever.”
“Me too,” I said, burying my face in his neck. My heart was so full it spilled over. “Forever.”
THE END
Acknowledgments
I am so grateful to the following people: Jaime and Charles Collins, for talking so openly and honestly about PTSD and military matters; Amanda Williams Brown, for answering my “city girl” questions about life on a small farm; Lindsay Way, for an abundance of information on the Fair Food Network; Cheryl Guernsey, for being Jack’s biggest champion day to day; Melissa Gaston, for everything she does to keep me organized, sane, and productive; Kayti, Laurelin, and Sierra, for being the best squad of snakes ever; Jenn Watson, for being superhuman publicist, reader, and friend; Candi, Nine, Hilary, and the entire Social Butterfly PR team for all you do; Rebecca Friedman, agent and friend, for honest advice and encouragement; Tamara Mataya, for fantastic edits that always make me smile; Laura Foster Franks, Amanda Maria at AM to PM Book Services, and Ang Oh for proofreading with eagle eyes; Letitia Hasser, for a gorgeous cover; Joseph Cannata, for the excellent visual inspiration; Laurelin Paige, Lauren Blakely and Corinne Michaels, for sage advice; Staci Hart for amazing feedback and long talks; Helena Hunting, for good times and colorful play money; the Peen Queens for feedback, laughs, and inspiration; the Harlots, for all your love and support; the bloggers who share my work and invite me to signings and review my books simply for the love of reading—THANK YOU; all my readers, for your support and enthusiasm—this is only possible because of you.
Finally, thank you to my husband and children, for your love, patience, and understanding.
Want more in this world?
Jaime and Quinn’s story, Man Candy, is available now!
Quinn Rusek is back.
Not just back in town, but living in the flat right beneath mine. And he looks good enough to eat, which is just one more reason to stay
away from him.
But I can’t resist.
The sex is incredible (pretty sure we’ve shaken the house right off its foundation), but he can’t fool me—not this time. A degree in marketing and five years in advertising have taught me that “true love” is a fairy tale used to sell lipstick, diamonds, and perfume. It doesn’t exist.
He thinks I’m wrong, and he wants to prove it.
I think he’s crazy, so I dare him to try.
It might be the biggest mistake of my life.
And look for Claire’s story in late February! Sign up here to be alerted for all new releases! http://bit.ly/1HY7Z75
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Also by Melanie Harlow
The Speak Easy Duet
Frenched (Mia and Lucas)
Yanked (Mia and Lucas)
Frenched: The Wedding Night (Mia and Lucas)
Forked (Coco and Nick)
Floored (Erin and Charlie)
Some Sort of Happy (Skylar and Sebastian)
Some Sort of Crazy (Natalie and Miles)
Some Sort of Love (Jillian and Levi)
Man Candy (Jaime and Quinn)
The Tango Lesson
About the Author
Melanie Harlow likes her heels high, her martini dry, and her history with the naughty bits left in. In addition to AFTER WE FALL, she’s the author of MAN CANDY, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series (contemporary romance), the FRENCHED series (contemporary romance) and the SPEAK EASY duet (historical romance). She writes from her home outside of Detroit, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and one insane rabbit.
Connect with Melanie!
AuthorMelanieHarlow
www.melanieharlow.com
[email protected]
After We Fall Page 25