The Lady Always Wins(20)

“I was hoping that when you saw these, you would have different memories.” He took her hands in his. “I’m not done with it yet. But I planted every bulb with my own hands. And with every one, I make a promise. I promise that from here on forward, I will guard you from your darkest fears. I will keep you safe. I will hold you dear to me.”

Her eyes stung, and Ginny found herself blinking rapidly.

“You were right,” he said. “The lady always wins.”

“The lady,” Ginny said, reaching out to him, “can share.”

He took her hand. “I know. That’s why you should always win. Ginny, will you marry me?”

The tulip bulbs were strewn around them. Their hands were connected over fertile soil, rife with promise.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes. A million times yes.”

Epilogue

ON THE GLORIOUS MORNING three and a half weeks later when Simon finally made her his, he could think of nothing but his bride.

He scarcely noticed the blue and cloudless sky, nor the white stone of the church when he entered. He didn’t take note of the decorated chapel, of the sheaves of tulips that adorned the pedestals, or the petals that had been strewn down the aisles. It was the wedding of the Season, but he barely realized that his guests were streaming in. Instead, he focused on the doors where his bride would enter.

He almost couldn’t quite believe she would be here.

When the organ began playing, and the crowd rose, his whole heart swelled. And when she entered... Ah, sweet Ginny. She wore a gold gown of watered silk, swept up in complicated bows and flounces. She carried a simple bouquet of yellow tulips. And she came down the aisle, slowly, to stand before him.

He could scarcely breathe.

And then, she gave him a smile—a long, slow, mischievous smile that brought him back from the heavens opening up to angelic choirs. By the time the vicar made his way through the meandering ceremony, he’d remembered again and again why he most loved her—why nobody else had ever been able to complete him as she had.

And so when he spoke his vows, he didn’t just blurt them out. Just because the words were part of a sacred ceremony didn’t mean that they couldn’t be part of a game, too.

“With this ring,” he said, as solemnly as he could manage. “I thee wed.”

The emphasis was intentional. He hadn’t consulted her on the ring. He hadn’t even so much as made mention of it, and she’d simply trusted the details to him.

She should have known better. He pulled out a ring with an entirely too-realistic beetle on it, large, ostentatious stones set like bulbous orbs in its head. Her eyes widened.

To give her credit, she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even pull her hand away. She just met his eyes in a silent dare: If you put that thing on me, so help me, I will…

Just because he’d put her first didn’t mean he couldn’t tease her a little. He’d practiced hiding the real ring in the palm of his hand for days. He slipped the weight onto her finger, and when she took her hand from his, she found he’d placed a single, perfect gold band on it instead.

Her only response was a faint, relieved huff and a twitch of her lip.

With one raise of her eyebrow, she let him know that he’d won this round—but that she’d be back for more. A lifetime of more.

Simon could hardly wait.