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HUXLEY

* One Year Later *

E ven though I had wanted to pull out all the stops, Willa didn't want anything over the top for our anniversary. Especially since we disagree on the exact moment we became a couple. She says that our relationship started with our first kiss. I think it began the second we met.

But since there were only twelve hours between the two events, we at least agree on the date.

After a quiet, early dinner at Betty's Bistro, we come home and stroll along the edge of Cedar Lake. Willa noticed earlier that I have champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries in the fridge, but she hasn't commented yet.

We walk slowly across the pebbled shore, scanning for large chunks of beach glass and interesting little stones. "How about this one?" I reach down to pick up an almost perfectly round black stone with three crisscrossing lines of white quartz.

"Perfect! Great eye, babe."

This has become a ritual at least once a week since she moved in.

Every step of the way, Willa seems dazzled that I've changed my space for her – from rearranging the kitchen so she can reach things more easily, to creating her jewelry studio in the garage and having the bench at the perfect height for her. Not to mention, all of the wire pulling and assorted other jewelers’ tools I’ve bought for her.

It’s fascinating stuff, and I’m excited about assisting her with some of it.

She's researching courses in both jewelry making and metalwork, and I know it's only a matter of time before she has her certification. But she's doing it for herself, not her family.

Willa's hand squeezes mine, then she gasps, squatting down to grab an oblong light gray stone with bright white flecks. "This one will look so cool wrapped in real silver!" she squeals in delight.

We take a moment to look up at the sunset, where the orange streaks are just dipping over the tree line. It’s one of those perfectly still moments where it feels like the entire forest and lake are holding their collective breath.

Five steps later, I pause again. "Hey, here’s a pretty one.”

I bend down, and she tries to follow my gaze, unable to see what I'm looking at. I spin on one knee, grabbing her hand as I hold up a tiny black box and flick it open with my thumb. I’ll be honest: I actually practiced that move several times so this moment would go smoothly.

"Willa Emma Lilly Foster, will you marry me and be the lady of the house and mistress of my heart forever?"

Her free hand flutters against her lips and her breath sputters as she nods quickly. "Yes. Of course. Yes."

I slip the ring onto her finger as her mouth falls open. Then she lifts it closer, staring.

Over the past year, she had done many sketches with different stones, metals and styles. This is the one she kept coming back to. Yet her version didn't have a large enough diamond for my liking.

"You had in your notes that the sides should be pink zircons. Instead, I went with light pink rubies. I hope that's okay?"

" Hux . You shouldn't have."

I wrap her in my arms, swinging her around in a slow circle. "Of course I should. You like pink stones with pale metal. I pay attention, Angel – I've seen the way you look at diamond, ruby and platinum rings. Champagne, my love?"

She grins up at me, her palms caressing the sides of my face. "Why not, fiancé ."

She laughs at my exaggerated head to toe wiggle. "Baby, you have no idea how good that sounds to me."

"Good, because I'm going to say it a lot."

As we walk back to the house, she reaches up into the back of my t-shirt, knowing from memory where the treasure chest with her charms is tattooed next to my spine. Her fingertips trail in a few small circles, then she giggles sweetly.

"What's so funny, Angel?"

"You just keep surprising me. Keep outdoing yourself. I mean, you've already charmed me into staying here forever. What's next?"

I turn back to gaze across the lake to get one last glimpse of the fading multicolored sunset. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”