Page 52 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

Ivy

I smooth the front of my dress, the soft white fabric light and airy, falling in graceful waves to just below my knees.

The sleeveless cut and gentle scoop neckline give it an easy, sun-kissed feel, while the subtle cinch at the waist hints at my shape without trying too hard.

It’s simple but beautiful—breezy, feminine, timeless, and not at all what I expected to wear to a Galentine’s Day party.

Harper insisted we all wear white, to go along with all of the hot pink decorations. I thought it was a little strange, but Harper gets her way when it comes to party themes, and I didn’t want to be the one to ruin her aesthetic.

In the mirror, my reflection doesn’t look all that different. But I feel different. Softer in the right ways and stronger in the ones that matter.

I reach for my gold earrings, the ones Olivia got me for Christmas, and smile. My girls. They’ve carried me through so much—through doubt and heartbreak, healing and hope. And tonight, we're celebrating our friendship.

Still, there’s something about today. A feeling I can’t quite explain humming beneath my skin .

My phone buzzes on the counter.

Gray

Have fun tonight, beautiful.

Just four words, but they steal my breath a little.

I tuck the phone into my purse and do one last check in the mirror. Hair curled. Lip gloss on. Heart racing.

As I head toward the door, I whisper a quiet prayer—not for anything specific, just a soft thank you. For this faith. This hope. This love.

The walk to the coffee shop is short, barely enough time for me to overthink…but of course, I do anyway.

Harper’s texts about today had been vague and Olivia hasn’t responded to me.

I turn onto Knox Street, nerves fluttering low in my stomach.

I clutch my small leather purse tighter as I step inside the coffee shop, expecting the usual hum of chatter, the clink of mugs, maybe soft indie music playing through the speakers. But tonight… it’s different.

It’s still. Empty. The air smells faintly of espresso and cinnamon, familiar but somehow…different. I glance around, confused. There’s no trace of Harper’s usual party chaos. No streamers, no balloons taped to the windows, no cupcakes piled on mismatched platters.

Am I at the wrong coffee shop?

My heels click softly against the worn wooden floors as I move deeper inside, heart thudding faster now, wondering why no-one is here, not even the staff.

“Harper?” I call out, my voice swallowed by the hush.

No answer. But ahead, near the back of the shop, I spot a soft golden glow spilling from the doorway to the private room they sometimes rent out for small gatherings .

I turn the corner—and stop in my tracks.

The room is transformed. String lights drip from the ceiling like stars, their glow mirrored by the flicker of candles scattered across every surface. Rose petals in shades of deep crimson and blush pink trail along the floor, leading me forward like a path meant only for me.

And there he is.

Gray.

Standing at the far end of the room, guitar gripped in his hands, eyes locked on mine like I’m the only person in the world. His lips curve in that soft, heart-stealing smile.

Then he starts to play.

The first gentle strum echoes through the candlelight. His voice, when it comes, is soft at first, like he’s singing straight to my soul.

Met you in the middle of a moment I didn’t see coming

Your hand in mine like a spark in the dark

Didn’t know then what You were starting

But You wrote it on my heart

I take a slow step forward, my heels soundless against the petals scattered beneath my feet. The day we met flashes in my mind—the dare, the rush of his hand in mine, the way everything else faded but him.

Every step, every prayer, every night I wondered

If I was enough, if I’d lose my way

But You were the grace I didn’t know I’d needed

You stayed, you staye d

My throat tightens. Another step. His voice is stronger now, every word wrapping around me. And I see it—not just the man in front of me, but the man who waited, who chose patience, who loved without demanding anything in return.

I’ll wait in the quiet, no need to be sure

Of timelines or answers—I’ll stand and endur e

Love isn’t pressure, it’s patience and grace

I dare to believe... you’re worth the wait

My eyes blur with tears, but I keep moving. He watches me, like he’s afraid if he blinks, he’ll miss this moment.

Your laughter’s been my light on the hardest days

Your searching eyes, they keep me brave

And I’ve learned that love’s not about chasing

It’s about choosing, every day

I’m almost there now. Just a few more steps. His voice wavers, just slightly, like the weight of the words is catching up to him too.

So I’ll choose you in the silence, in the storm, in the fight

I’ll choose you in the morning, I’ll choose you every night

And when the world tells us hurry, I’ll slow down and stay

‘Cause I know—you’re worth the wait

The final chorus begins. I stop, right in front of him, my heart pounding so hard I swear he can hear it.

I’ll wait in the quiet, no need to be sure

Of timelines or answers—I’ll stand and endure

Love isn’t pressure, it’s patience and grace

I dare to believe... you’re worth the wait

He lets the last chord fade, his gaze never leaving mine. My tears fall freely now, but I’m smiling, breathless with wonder.

And in this room filled with petals, candles, and promises, I know—this is it. This is forever.

He lifts the guitar over his shoulder, setting it down then reaching for my hands. “Ivy…I’ll never forget that day, eleven months ago, in New Orleans. When you grabbed my hand out of nowhere because your friends dared you to.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“I had no idea who you were. But somehow…I think part of me already knew you were going to change everything.”

His voice softens as he takes a step closer.

“I used to think love had to be loud to be real. Wild. All-consuming. But then you came in—soft and sure, and somehow wrecked me in all the right ways.”

He draws in a breath, his expression more serious now.

“You are the calm to my storm. The answer to every prayer I didn’t know how to form out loud. You’ve taught me what it means to love patiently…to trust God’s timing, especially when it didn’t make sense.”

He swallows, emotion thick in his voice.

“You make me want to be better—not because you expect it, but because you believe I already am. You’ve seen every part of me—my broken past, my shaky in-betweens, and my redeemed present. And somehow, you’ve still chosen to stay.”

He lets out a shaky breath and drops to one knee, the ring in his hand glinting in the soft light .

“I’ve already given you my heart, Ivy Taylor. Now I want to give you every part of my future. The music. The mess. The quiet mornings and the late-night prayers. The laughter and the tears. My black coffee and your overly sweet lattes. All of it—with you.”

His smile is crooked, full of love.

“I dare you to marry me. I dare you to spend the rest of your life with me. I dare you to raise a family with me, grow old with me and share the gospel and spread love any chance we get.”

Time stills. My breath catches.

I throw my arms around Gray, laughing through the tears. “Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, a thousand times, yes.”

And then, behind me, through the doorway, a flood of voices rushes in. Laughter. Cheers. Applause.

Our people.

Everyone we love is here—Harper, Olivia, my parents, Gray’s friends, our church family. The ones who’ve walked us through the hardest and most beautiful parts of this story.

Gray rises to his feet, pulling me into his arms as the people we love pour into the room. I'm still holding his face when I feel Harper tackle me from behind in a half-hug, half-sob. “You’re engaged!” she squeals, practically bouncing.

“I’m so happy for you two!” Olivia says, giving Gray a high five before hugging me like she’s never letting go.

“Wait,” I say, dazed. “The party...the all-white dress code…Galentine’s Day?”

“You’re the only one in white, babe,” Harper says, wiping under her eyes. “You didn’t notice that?”

Gray grins beside me. “You always steal the show anyway. We just made it official this time.”

I glance down at my dress, suddenly seeing it differently—no longer just a cute outfit I picked out for Valentine's Day. Now, it’s the dress I said yes in.

He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “You look perfect.”

“Do not make me cry again,” I whisper.

Too late.

We don’t leave the coffee shop. Instead, the night unfolds right here—warm, glowing, perfect.

Turns out Gray rented the whole place, because soon, a small team rolls in quietly with trays of food.

The air fills with the scent of roasted chicken, garlic bread, and something rich and chocolatey.

The long counter is lined with our favorite coffee drinks—cappuccinos, lattes, hot cocoa with little marshmallows.

The small round tables that I’ve sat at a hundred times before—where I’ve sipped coffee, sketched designs, and laughed with friends—have been transformed.

Each one is topped with a cluster of candles flickering softly, their light reflecting off tiny glass vases filled with greenery, soft blush roses, and deep red blooms. It’s simple. But beautiful. Effortless. Us.

I press my hand to my mouth, overwhelmed again. “Gray…”

He grins, slipping an arm around me. “I figured we’d go back to the day you crashed into my life.”

“This is perfect.”

Once everyone has a plate in front of them, Gray rises, reaching for my hand. “Before we eat, I want to pray.”

The shop falls quiet, the glow of the lights reflecting in the windows like stars.

“Father,” Gray begins, voice steady but thick with emotion, “thank You for this night. For Ivy—for her faith, her strength, her joy. For the way You’ve walked with us through every step.

I pray You’ll stay at the center of everything we build together.

Let our love reflect Yours—patient, kind, enduring.

Let this night remind us of Your goodness. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

A soft chorus of amen echoes, and Gray squeezes my hand before we sit.

The rest of the night is simple, sweet, and full of quiet magic. We eat, we laugh. The playlist Gray queued up hums through the speakers—soft acoustic love songs, a little old-school Frank Sinatra, even a few of our silly favorites.

At some point, he pulls me close, swaying with me in the middle of the coffee shop, right between the bar and the tables. His hand on my back, his breath warm against my temple, the whole world melts away.

“This night couldn’t get any better,” I murmur.

He smiles against my hair. “Wanna bet?”

I pull back just enough to look up at him, my heart already racing. “What did you do?”

Gray grins, reaches into his jacket pocket, and pulls out a small folded sticky note that has worn edges, he’s clearly carried it around for a long time.

“I never told you about this,” he says, unfolding it. The edges are soft, the ink smudged in places, but it’s clearly been kept close.

He unfolds it slowly, gently, like it’s sacred.

“I wrote this the morning I met you,” he says. “Had no clue what was coming. I was sitting in the hotel room, asking God to take care of the woman I’d one day marry. That wherever she was, He’d keep her safe. Seen. Loved. Prepared—for me, and me for her.”

My breath catches as I read the short prayer scrawled in his handwriting. It’s raw, simple, beautiful .

Take care of her.

Wherever she is tonight hold her close.

Protect her heart, even the pieces she doesn’t show.

Surround her with people who remind her she’s loved.

Prepare her for the kind of love that mirrors Yours.

But what undoes me completely—what wrecks me—is the way the word “her” is scratched out in every line and replaced, carefully, intentionally, with my name.

Ivy.

“You’ve been in this prayer since day one,” he says, voice thick. “And I’ve prayed it every day since.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. I clutch the note to my chest like it’s a part of him. Because it is.

“Gray Bennett,” I whisper, “how on earth am I supposed to top that?”

He grins. “You don’t. Just keep holding my hand in public—it worked out pretty well last time.”