Worth the Risk(108)

It’s my turn to laugh. And then sigh. The last time there was a program glitch like this was my first Harvest Festival back. I think of him here in the office. Taunting me. Seducing me without me even realizing it. And then, of course, my jealousy and assumptions.

The softening in Grayson’s eyes tells me he’s remembering the same night. The same emotions. The same building block that helped make us what we are today.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I say as I take a seat. “I’m going to need it.”

And I don’t look up again as the door shuts, because I’m already pouring over the layout. The errors. The misplaced words sitting erroneously in the middle of articles, looking almost like a ransom note gone wrong.

Like this one here. It’s an article on flowers and arrangements. Haphazardly plopped on top of the article is the word “me.” Or this one here about perfect venues, where there is a bold-faced type more than a hundred times larger than the regular font spelling the word “will.” And then, of course, there is the image of the gorgeous cover couple all fancied up in their wedding attire in the middle of the vineyard—the shoot we had done that hit every note perfectly—with a comic book type of POW over it, but instead of the word “pow,” it says “marry.”

So frustrating.

I begin trying to manipulate the program that I’ve learned inside out over the past year. I click, I refresh, I do everything I know to do and nothing—I mean absolutely nothing—is working.

With my focus on the computer, I reach over and click on the phone intercom. “Jamie?”

No answer.

All of these pages. I line the erred ones up on the screen.

“Jamie?”

Not even a sound.

Wait a minute.

When I look up, the office is dark. The staff is gone. Just the front light is on.

The clock tells me I’ve been working a while, but for them to leave without saying anything?

Another page I found. The perfect wedding cake and there is a huge question mark covering the tiers of it.

What the hell is going on?

I drag that page over to my desktop as I rise from my seat, suddenly unsettled and a whole lot confused.

“Hello?” I call out as I step back from my desk with one last look at my screen.

And then my heart stops.

And starts.

A laugh escapes my lips as my fingers go up to touch them, and I stare at the screen. In disbelief. In shock. In holy shit.

I can’t be right. Can I?

The screen. The messed-up pages. When they’re all together, I see what they say, but my eyes don’t want to believe it to be true.

Will. You. Marry. Me?

My heart pounds as I stare at the screen and then look out to the office beyond. “Grayson?” I walk out of my door, the click of my heels the only sound I hear. “Gray?”

When I turn the corner to the front waiting room, my breath catches as I lock eyes with Grayson. He’s standing in the lobby, looking exactly as he had hours ago in my office—shorts, polo shirt—and yet, the man just stole my heart all over again. His eyes are all I see as I stand there, because, in them, I see so many things I never thought possible. So many things I used to scoff at but now want for myself.

Lining the wall behind him are all of the pages I was trying to fix—in poster size—but this time, they are spread out and in the right order. Will you marry me?

“Grayson.” Part hope. Part shock. All love.

It’s all I have to say to have that nervous smile spreading on his lips. “Want to skip dinner and do this instead?”

Unable to get the words out, I nod emphatically as he takes a step toward me.

“So, there’s this girl,” he says and chills race over my skin as my heart melts and pulse races.

“And there’s this boy . . .”

He nods as his hands find mine, trembling ever so slightly. “There’s this girl who walked into my life a few years back, took everything I knew, took everything I thought about what I wanted for my life, and she tossed it upside down.” He chuckles, and the shy smile on his lips makes me want to kiss him. “She challenged me in ways I never expected. She told me that she was not a kid person, even though time and again, she stole both my and my son’s hearts. She said she hated this small-town life despite walking proudly through it in her high heels and slowly letting them sink into the grass without a single complaint. I told her I was ruined. I accused her of being just like the person that ruined me. I told her never again . . . but nevertheless, she persisted. She wore her way into my heart, into my life, until a day was not complete without her smile, her laugh, the scent of her perfume. You knocked me on my ass, Sidney Thorton . . . knocked me down when I didn’t even know you were coming . . . but then you picked me back up. You made me whole. You made me hope. You made me love.” His eyes well with tears and mine follow as my pulse thunders in my ears. “And I don’t want to spend another day without you knowing that you are the one I want. You are the risk I chose to take. You are the one I choose.”

“Grayson.” My chest aches from all of the love.

“Will you marry me, Sid?” He lowers himself to one knee, smiling up at me. “Well, me and Luke, but he and your parents and my family and your staff—who helped me frustrate you by choosing this topic—are all waiting for us at Hooligan’s to celebrate if you say yes.”