It was their first kiss after she told him how she felt.

And it was everything.

The kiss didn’t stay sweet for long. Just like their other two kisses, he deepened it. His hand was on her cheek, the other still clutching her side. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could get him. They fit together perfectly. She belonged here—always. Screw the rain and the cold wind—she was going to stay here, kissing the man she loved, and who loved her back, forever.

Something tugged at her waist and Rohan pulled back, looking a bit shell-shocked with swollen lips. He looked down, and Kamila remembered he was still holding Potato’s leash.

Potato was fine, though. He’d positioned himself on the gazebo floor under one of the bigger roof leaks, head up, lapping happily at the water dripping from the gazebo ceiling.

Kamila giggled, letting her forehead fall to Rohan’s chest.

“He’s a bit of a goof,” Kamila said.

Rohan chuckled, kissing the top of Kamila’s head.

She tilted to look at him. “What happens now?”

He smiled. “First of all, as stunning as you are in that sari, I think we should go home and change. Then we can talk.”

She playfully slapped his chest. “Oh my god, it was the sari, wasn’t it? That’s why you said you loved me. I’m in a soaking-wet sari.”

He tightened his arm around her. “I said I love you because I do. But…” He pulled her in against him. “Maybe the wet sari motivated me to say something today, though.” He started kissing her neck and down her shoulder. “And it’s probably why I’m reluctant to let you go.”

She shivered. It was mostly because Rohan was kissing her neck, but also…it was cold. She was barely dressed. October wasn’t the best time of year for the whole wet-sari-love-scene thing in Canada.

“Let’s go home, Rohan.”

He put the framed photograph back in his bag, and they walked hand in hand back toward the church. This was really happening. Rohan and her. He loved her, too. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Question,” she said as they crossed the field. “Why were you the only one with the gray hair in the momo picture?”

He snorted. “Like Kamila Hussain would ever go gray naturally.”

Good point. She grinned. “The photo was an excellent groveling gift. Five stars—would recommend to friends. Much better than offering me a third of HNS.” She looked at Potato. “A puppy would have worked, too.”

Without pausing, he reached down and picked up Potato and put him in Kamila’s arms. She hugged the puppy close. Her sari was ruined anyway, and Potato was the best. He licked her face.

“There,” Rohan said. “I just happen to have a puppy for you, too.”