Page 122 of Duty Unbound

“In person.” I couldn’t stop looking at the ring, still amazedthat this was my life now. “Your mom will want to hug us both for at least ten minutes.”

He laughed. “Probably longer. She’s been pestering me about when I was going tostop dragging my feet and make an honest woman of youfor months.”

“That sounds like Margaret.” I smiled, thinking of how quickly his parents had welcomed me into their family. How Margaret had taken me under her wing, teaching me ranch life with the same patient kindness she showed everyone. How Doug had become the father figure I’d never had.

“What about Nova?” Ethan asked. “Do you want to wait and tell her when she visits next week?”

“No, I’ll call her tonight.” I twisted the ring, watching the light play across its surface. “She’ll be thrilled. She’s been dropping hints about being my maid of honor since our first month together.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t already planned the whole wedding.”

“Oh, I’m sure she has Pinterest boards dedicated to it. But she knows better than to push.” I traced the line of his collarbone through his shirt. “After everything, she’s learned to respect boundaries.”

I missed my sister, but not much of the rest. No more hotel rooms, no more tour buses, no more living someone else’s dream. Just this—the ranch, the mountains, the man I loved, and the life we were building together.

And hopefully, a few kids in the future.

At the door, I paused for one last look at the sunset painting the horizon in brilliant colors no camera could ever truly capture. My easel stood silently on the porch, the half-finished canvas a testament to how far I’d come from the woman who’d once only painted dreams she never thought she’d live.

“I love you,” I said, the words simple but profound.

Ethan’s arm slipped around my waist, pulling me close as westepped inside the house—our house, our home, our future stretching before us like the endless Colorado sky.

“I love you too,” he replied. “Always.”

The door closed behind us, but I knew I’d be back at that easel tomorrow. Only now, I wasn’t painting dreams anymore.

I was painting my reality.

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