by Marcelo, Tif
Brandon squeezed Geneva against him. Her body was strong against his, a reflection of her will. It dawned all at once how lucky he was, that he was surrounded by the strongest individuals. Being around them, and being around Geneva now, made him a better person because they challenged him as much as they supported him. “You were right. I needed to let go.”
“That was wrong for me to say. I had no right.”
“No, no, it wasn’t wrong. You were spot on. You weren’t asking me to let go of my parents. You were just asking me to be with you. You were asking me to open my heart to trust you, and twice I was stubborn and defensive. Twice, I showed you that I wasn’t ready to take the risk. But I am now.”
Brandon had so much more to say, about everything that had transpired, about dealing with his siblings as they had tackled their parents’ things, in the process of selling Mulberry Road. But one piece of news took precedence. “This is my new house.”
She looked up at him, then stepped back. “What house?”
“This, um, structure.” He hiked a thumb behind him.
Her eyes lit. “Illinois Way is your house.”
He nodded. “A vacation home, maybe even an investment home. But it needs a lot of help. And, I was hoping that you could be the one to help me. It’s got good bones, a really strong foundation. Some structural issues but fixable.” Brandon’s cheeks warmed. “It has . . . a lot of potential. Lots of room for improvement for someone who’s willing to give it a little TLC. And, I thought that with my construction knowledge and your design genius, we could do something special here—”
Geneva stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, halting his words. “You want me to what?”
The kiss reset him. It bolstered him to say the next words with conviction. “I want for us to be together, wherever that may be. Here, or in a tiny house, or anywhere else. I’m free. Garrett and I—we’ve been talking, about what we both want, about what’s best for P&C Homes. You’ve made a business being a mobile entrepreneur, and I think I can make a go at that too. Will you . . . can I . . . go with you?”
Silence descended around them while Brandon waited for her answer.
Geneva blinked up at him. “Do you mean that?”
“I do.”
“With Luna?”
“Is that even a question? Yes.” He felt a slice of worry. “Will she have me?”
“Oh, I think so.” She grinned. “She lets very few people pet her. My parents, Beatrice, Nita, and you . . . you picked her up. She let you pick her up. I think you passed her test.”
“Then I’m a very lucky man with more to love.”
She reached for her back pocket and produced a card. She pressed it into his hand. “All right, here is my counterproposal. I’m so impressed with the local printers, by the way. They did this for us in a couple of hours.”
“Local printer?” Brandon examined the card. It was a business card for Beachy. Geneva’s name was under his sister’s.
“What do you think of the Outer Banks as home base?” She smiled up. “Because there’s no more running for me. I’m at the finish line.”
EPILOGUE
Six months later
Heart Resort, North Carolina
Weather: full sun all day and a perfect 70°F
“Did you pack your running shoes?” Geneva whispered to Brandon. She looked over at the line of words in the document he was signing, where it said, under activities, Couples hike on Pea Island.
“Of course I did,” he said. “I wanted to get a run in before our 5k. What I don’t have are hiking boots.”
“Me either,” she whispered. Now she was worried. Would her running shoes be ruined? They needed to last until their race, which she and Brandon had been training for. “Did you sign us up for hiking?”
“No, I didn’t, I swear. My siblings are punking us.”
“Actually,” said a voice behind them, and Geneva turned as Chet Seiko walked into the Heart Resort office with two resort backpacks in his hand, “we created a custom set of activities that could be beneficial to your relationship goals, all of which are a surprise. Much of the experience is the couple traversing the unknown together. Thank you, by the way, for volunteering as guinea pigs for this new programming.”
“Voluntold is more like it,” Brandon said.
“It will be good for us,” Geneva noted and bit her cheek, musing, Your first surprise is literally here, Brandon.
Brandon grumbled. He was, as expected, exhausted from their red-eye from San Diego. Geneva had pitched Beachy home wares to a chain of high-end boutiques; Brandon had tagged along—he was also in between consulting a major home renovation with Garrett—and they’d made a small vacation of it. Geneva was on a high from the short getaway; she’d landed the account and had even met up with Nita, who now worked with Beachy. It would only get better now that they were back home in the Outer Banks.
Topping her to-do list was, finally, this reveal.
“After you sign the bottom of those forms, I can give you these bags, and we can have Sal drive you to your beach house.”
Geneva’s heart began to beat in earnest as she scribbled her signature. She nodded at Chet, who handed each of them a backpack—to her, the green backpack, and to Brandon, the blue.
“Thanks,” Brandon said.
“We should check what’s in the backpacks, shouldn’t we?” Geneva’s voice croaked. Her heart rate sped up. “What’s in your bag, Brandon?”
“We can unpack in the beach house. Which are we staying in, Chet?”
“Sinta.”
“Babe, let’s see what’s in your backpack,” Geneva insisted. He already knew that they were staying in Sinta—it was written on the contract.
“Oh, that’s the one you didn’t get to finish, right, Gen?” Brandon asked. “Or was that Ligaya?”
“It was both.” Geneva’s nerves frayed. “But anyway, look inside your backpack. In fact, let’s look together.”
“Goodness, fine.” He unzipped the large compartment and peeped inside. “There’s nothing in mine.”
“What?” She darted her gaze at Chet. “What do you mean?”
“Let me . . . um . . .” Chet left the room hurriedly.
What the heck? “Where are you going, Chet?” She’d coordinated everything down to the second, to make sure the black velvet box was placed in the blue—in Brandon’s—backpack.
She set down her green backpack on the table while she searched all the blue backpack’s pockets. The speech that she’d rehearsed ran through her mind. This was supposed to be the perfect setup: being in the place where they’d fallen back in love, with Brandon’s family—who had given her their blessings over video chat three days prior—waiting outside the door for confirmation that she finally put a ring on it . . .
“Where is it?” she yelped in panic.
“Geneva Roque Harris.”
The sound of her complete name snapped her out of her running thoughts. From the green backpack, Brandon pulled out her leather Traveler’s notebook.
“How did that get there?” Geneva was confused. She’d left the notebook in her suitcase, currently in one of the white vans, waiting for transport to Sinta. Or she thought so, anyway.
“You’re not the only one who can coordinate,” Brandon said, handing the notebook to her.
Dangling from the bottom was a bookmark charm. A shell. She opened the book to the first page of a brand-new notebook insert, to a line item next to an unchecked box. Written in Brandon’s distinct handwriting, it said: Marry me.
She looked up just as Brandon dropped on one knee. He was holding a teal velvet box.
She gasped.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The beginnings of the Puso family came to me while at a romance writers’ conference in 2019, but it was only when we (as in our family and most of the world) began sheltering in place for COVID-19 that the full concept materialized. Along with my sourdough bread, I baked up the final image of a private heart-shaped reso
rt where couples could escape and work on their relationships, run by a family that had its own issues of the heart. Literally. *winks* In my own need to escape, I dived into the synopsis and the first chapters with reckless abandon. I threw everything I love into it: the magnificent Outer Banks (my family’s most favorite destination, especially south of 12), tiny spaces (we are an RV family), the naming of homes, and my Filipino American culture.
This book would not have come to be without my literary agent, Rachel Brooks, who not only continues to champion my work but champions me. She took this pivot and ran with it with enthusiasm. Enter Lauren Plude and her perfect editorial suggestions that pushed me to dig deep. Writing requires vulnerability; writing and editing during COVID times could be unprecedentedly difficult without an editor who believed in the heart of your book. I’m so lucky to have an editor who saw Brandon and Geneva for who they are, and for what they are to one another.
To Anh Schluep, Jillian Cline, Lauren Grange, Susan Stokes, Riam Griswold, and the entire Montlake team for your unyielding support. Amy Concannon and Christina Carrasco, for our chat on design and business. April Hunt and Jeanette Escudero for reading an early copy and tearing it to pieces. Sanjita E. and Maida Malby, for your intimate insights. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
To Kristin Dwyer of LeoPR, who is a pillar! Our phone calls during COVID times where we talked more about life than about books have been such bright spots. The complete #girlswritenight ensemble: April and Jeanette, along with Annie Rains and Rachel Lacey, for our everyday check-ins, sprints, gossip, and laughter. #5amwritersclub, for your company in the wee morning hours, especially Annie. Tall Poppy Writers for your support, partnership, and friendship, especially Sonja Yeorg, Amy Impellizzeri, and Amy E. Reichert. #Batsignal: Mia Sosa, Tracey Livesay, Nina Crespo, Priscilla Oliveras, and Michele Arris for your friendship and acceptance. Fellow titas: Mia Hopkins, Sarah Smith, and Maida Malby.
To readers, bloggers, reviewers, booksellers, and librarians: thank you for picking up my books, for sampling that first page, for reading to “The End,” for reaching out with your encouragement, and for sharing my books with others! I heart you!
My parents, who have shown such fortitude in their lives; my brothers, JR and Racky, who are the best brothers an ate could have. My sisters, Connie and Aimee and Liz, and mother-in-law, Cheri: I love you! Greg, who endures my collection of journals and planners, who has shown what it is to compromise, to support, to love. My plotting partners, Marshmallow and now Graham, who whisper their suggestions through their kisses. And finally, my Fab Four: Greg, Cooper, Ella, and Anna. Everything you are is everything to me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2020 Sarandipity Photography
Tif Marcelo is a veteran US Army nurse who holds a BS in nursing and a master’s in public administration. She believes in and writes about the strength of families, the endurance of friendship, and the beauty of heartfelt romance—and she’s inspired daily by her own military hero husband and four children. She hosts the Stories to Love podcast, and she is also the USA Today bestselling author of In a Book Club Far Away, Once Upon a Sunset, The Key to Happily Ever After, and the Journey to the Heart series. Sign up for her newsletter at www.TifMarcelo.com.