“Jacob,” she said softly, tipping her head back.

He smiled down at her, both hands filled by a pair of ice cream cones. “Hello, Sunshine.”

“I knew you’d get me one,” she beamed.

“Raspberry ripple.” He pressed a cone into her hand. “You’re welcome.”

“And you’re in my good books. Come sit with me,” she ordered, “and gaze upon all this gingery splendor.”

“You want me to gaze upon . . . your brother-in-law?” he asked as he sat down.

Eve snorted. “That was rather good.”

“Thank you. I try.” They sat practically on top of each other, their bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip to thigh. Jacob’s arm found its now-familiar place around her waist, his other hand wrapped around his own ice cream cone. But unlike Eve, who’d already fallen upon her raspberry ripple with animal enthusiasm, he wasn’t eating.

He was simply watching her.

His eyes were melting frost behind the frames of his glasses. His lower lip gave under the pressure of his teeth. “Eve,” he said. “I have something to ask you.”

She swallowed a mouthful of ice cream and looked over at Castell Cottage’s stall, where her parents stood watching, Gigi hovering in the background with her camera at the ready.

“Erm,” Eve said. “You’re not going to propose, are you? Because I’m still wearing my hairnet, and also, I might get excited and throw my ice cream at you.”

Jacob stared blankly at her for a moment, and she felt the first nervous flush of embarrassment. Whoops. She probably shouldn’t ask people if they were going to propose. But then again, this was Jacob, and if the last year had taught her anything, it was that she could ask Jacob whatever she wanted. Tell him whatever popped into her head. Do whatever took her fancy. So long as she loved him all the while, he would forever love her back—and his love was, above all, comfort.

So she flicked the embarrassment away.

Finally, he blinked back to life and released a surprised little laugh. “No,” he said. “No, I wasn’t going to propose. But, er, just for the sake of research—if I did, and you weren’t wearing a hairnet, and there wasn’t any ice cream to throw . . .” A lovely blush spread across his cheeks. “Would you say yes, Evie?”

Giddy pleasure sloshed about in her stomach, rather like champagne on a Jet Ski. “Erm,” she squeaked. “At the risk of seeming overeager, I do believe I would.”

“Good.” Jacob sounded deeply satisfied. “Hang on a second.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, opened up the notes app, and started typing. She peeked over his shoulder and saw the words: NO ICE CREAM.

Then he tutted at her and closed the app. “Oi. Nosy.”

“Jacob, are you writing a proposal plan?”

“Nosy,” he repeated, but he was grinning. “Now, as I was saying before you disrupted proceedings—”

“Jacob.” Eve was smiling so wide her face hurt, and it was entirely this man’s fault.