"Today is your day, and I wanted to celebrate with you the best way I could. Did I hope you'd say yes when I proposed? Hell yeah. The way I see it, the engagement is just a bonus."

A chuckle gushes from me.

"Check the closet." He nods with his chin.

Stepping into the walk-in closet, I see our black luggage in the corner and go to retrieve them. I grab both in case James wants to put pants on, only to frown when they're in my hands. I glance down. One of the suitcases feels awfully light. I shake my head. Typical James. He usually under packs, then has to buy clothes. I hope he at least packed a pair of flannel sweats to wear. He looks mighty fine in them.

With two flutes between his fingers, James comes to stand near me. I place his down and turn around, holding my bag.

"That's mine," he says.

I pause.

"The heavy one? I assumed it was mine and that Natalie just packed everything under the kitchen sink for me."

"Look closer."

My gaze roams over the luggage. I cup my mouth and stifle a laugh behind my palm. There’s a keychain that says "My Daddy is #1" hanging from the bottom where the two zippers meet. I got it for James when we were in Barcelona at a little hole-in-the-wall after one of the natives kept referring to him as Papá, thinking he was my father. I thought it was hysterical that he loved it and put it on his suitcase.

I glance over my shoulder at James, shaking my head. "Why do you put up with me again?"

His eyes glitter with amusement. "I could count all the ways I love thee, but I fear it would take centuries to complete."

"You're a riot, James."

I reach for the other suitcase and kneel on the floor to unzip it, then throw the top back. A whoosh of air blows past my lips as the contents appear in front of me.

One content, actually.

Shaking my head, I reach for the yellow Post-it note stuck in the center with Natalie's handwriting.

You're welcome.

I giggle while tapping the back of the sticky part with my index finger. "She's such an asshole. Why am I not surprised?"

I stand up and hand James the note. He squints, then his nostrils flare and I watch as an amused smile moves across his face.

"I can't believe she did that."

"Did she know you were going to propose?"

"No." He huffs out a laugh still looking at the note. He drops his arm and raises his eyes to mine. "I didn't trust her not to tell you. She did say that if you didn't come back with a ring on your finger to consider my brownstone torched. Honestly, she had a crazed look in her eyes. I wouldn't put it past her. Women are mental."

I raise a brow. "And yet you just put a ring on one of them."