“Good. Me, too.” I give her a short kiss, wrapping my arms around her. “You know, you don’t have to be pseudo or sort of anything.”

She sighs. “I thought you said you didn’t need anything else.”

“I don’t. But I want to call you my wife. I want to wear rings so the world knows it. I want this day to be a celebration. On this day, the universe brought you into the world and, twenty-five years later, brought you forever into mine. Why shouldn’t we celebrate it?”

MARNIE

“You’re right,” I say, breathless and spinning over his words. He wants to marry me? After Colin and Tamsyn’s Christmas miracle and Luke and Willow’s ‘accident,’ I thought for sure Grady was having baby yearnings. His doting attention upticked significantly, but at the same time, he grew quieter.

Like he felt sorry for me.

Sorry for us.

Sorry for himself.

Sure, I let my curse-minded brain take over at that point. It’s hard not to think everything will fall apart when we’ve had it so, so good. That’s been the story of my life.

But that’s not our story.

The intense way he stares into my eyes—so loving and familiar—his beautiful words, tender touches, and this lovely home we’ve created together shore up my belief in something stronger than any supposed curse. True love.

And that love for him swells so intensely just then that I’d do anything he wants.

He’s right. Maybe my perspective is cursed rather than the day itself. Yes, one year ago, I nearly died, and part of me did. Everything I thought I wanted was wrecked by chance, and it was the worst day for us both.

But it was also the day we found each other. It was the day I finally belonged to a family after all (though not the family I expected), because he became mine. He fought for me. He comforted me. We bonded together.

“I’m right?” he says, eyeing my lips like he wants to give into them again.

“We should celebrate.”

His smile curls up his cheek. “Good.”

“We should get married.”

His face lights up. “Really? You’ll marry me?”

“Yes, darling,” I smirk.

“Today?” he asks.

“Today or any day,” I say with a kiss.

“Today?” he asks again, with a serious, raspy voice.

My brow shoots up my forehead. “Are you saying that can be arranged?”

“You don’t even have to leave the house,” he grins.

“Eep! You planned it? Arranged it?”

“Just in case.”

I melt into his tender kisses.

“Say yes, Marina. Please be my wife.”

“Yes, Grady. Absolutely, yes.”

The wedding comes to me. Within hours, our cabin fills with our friends and family. Everyone arrives with a contribution—it’s a potluck wedding—and nothing is what one would expect.

But that’s been us from the beginning.