Page 28 of His Wisconsin Wallflower (Stateside Doms #25)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Two weeks had passed, and Cedarburg still felt hushed. The kind of hush that settles after a scandal, when people aren't sure what to say. Not everyone had known Vanessa well. It didn’t deter speculations and whispers. What happened to her had left a stain no one could quite scrub away.

On Sunday, Raisa woke to the solid weight of Quinten wrapped around her.

He had his arm slung low over her waist, and his warm breath stirred the hairs at the back of her neck.

She would’ve lingered in the cocoon of his hold, but her stomach roiled with an edge of queasiness that refused to be ignored.

Carefully, she shifted onto her back, holding her breath to avoid waking him. With a hand pressed over her belly, she focused on breathing slow and deep until the worst of it passed. The nausea receded in lazy waves, leaving a faint, persistent twist in her gut.

She stared up at the ceiling, absently tracing circles over her belly with her fingertips. Maybe it was something she ate. Maybe nerves, or a bug going around.

Or…

She shook her head and pressed her palm flat to her belly.

Her body felt warm, heavy, and not quite her own. Her skin had taken on a strange luminosity lately and people had even commented on it. Said she looked well-rested and radiant.

Radiant.

She snorted softly up to the ceiling. She didn’t feel radiant right now. She felt queasy, puffy-eyed, and a little emotionally scrambled.

Beside her, Quinten stirred. A soft rumble escaped his throat, followed by a mumbled, “Mornin’.” His arm tightened around her middle as he shifted closer, pulling her back into his chest.

He nuzzled the curve of her neck, breath warm and lazy. “You’re hogging all the blankets,” he muttered.

She smiled despite herself. “You’re one to talk.”

His hand slid behind her neck, firm and sure, and his lips caught hers with deliberate heat.

His grip on her nape tightened, and he pulled her closer.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips until she opened for him.

She was so easy for him, always willing, needy, and his to claim.

He kissed like he always did when he wanted her to feel something.

And God, she did. Every nerve lit up. Her breath hitched.

He didn’t rush. He possessed. And somehow, that made her feel not just wanted but safe.

By the time the kiss ended, she was breathless and melting against him, one hand fisted in his hair, her body draped half across his. Her thigh brushed the unmistakable hardness.

She stilled for half a second, before she smiled into the space between them, heart thudding like a drum in her chest.

She couldn’t imagine life without him.

“Good morning to you,” she murmured. The words came out husky.

Quinten’s eyes darkened with something that looked far too much like restraint. He helped her upright, and for a beat, she stayed there, unwilling to let go.

When he didn’t follow her lead, a soft sigh escaped her lips, disappointment curling in her belly.

He cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “There’ll be time for that later.” His eyes were warm and full of promises. “Right now, we’ve got an appointment.”

She blinked, still a little dazed. “With whom?”

“We’re picking up Nana.” He pushed back the covers. “She’s coming on an outing with us today.”

Her heart squeezed so hard it ached.

God. This man.

This infuriating, sexy, thoughtful man.

She pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could hold the feeling there a moment longer. “You planned an outing with Nana?”

He shrugged like it was nothing.

She couldn’t speak for a second. She just nodded, smiled, and knew—without a shadow of doubt—that this was her forever.

“Put on a nice dress,” he said.

She blinked. “Dress? Where are we going?”

But he only smirked and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

They dressed quickly, trading sleepy smiles and half-finished thoughts as they moved around each other. Neither bothered with breakfast—just shoes, coats, keys—and then they were out the door, climbing into the car with quiet anticipation.

They picked up Nana first, Quinten helping her into the back seat Nana was chatty, excited, clearly in on something.

Raisa tried to play it cool.

Failed.

By the time they were back on the road, she was fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, “So... this outing,” she said casually. “Where are we going?”

Quinten kept his eyes on the road. “You’ll see.”

“Is it far?”

“Nope.”

“Should I have packed snacks? Water? Emergency flare?”

From the back seat, Nana chuckled.

Quinten just smiled, maddeningly smug.

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re impatient.”

“Because I don’t like being surprised!”

He said nothing, and her suspicions grew.

And then the car turned.

She blinked as the familiar outline of the school appeared ahead. “Why are we?—”

“Just wait,” he said, his eyes on the road.

He pulled into the nearly empty parking lot and turned off the engine. A breeze ruffled the trees outside.

She frowned. “Just wait?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

He only smirked.

Quinten stepped out, came around, and opened the back door. “Come on, Nana.”

Nana slid her legs out of the car like a queen dismounting from a carriage. Quinten offered her an arm, and Raisa could’ve sworn the old woman winked at him. Wait—had they planned this together?

Then he turned to her and offered his other arm, that suspicious smirk still playing on his lips. “You, too.”

She narrowed her eyes. “The school is closed, you know?”

He leaned in, brushed a kiss over her nose, and said absolutely nothing.

Infuriating man.

She took his arm anyway, glaring at the pavement as they walked. She had no idea what he was dragging her into. If not for Nana, she would make him trip right now. But not today. Not when they were all dressed for a funeral and her heels already made her feet hurt.

The school loomed ahead, and something tight cinched around her chest. Inside, the halls were hushed and eerily. No bells, no teenage voices, no lockers slamming. Just silence and memory.

He opened the front doors and led them inside.

“You have a key?”

He winked and started walking down the corridor, adjusting his step so she and Nana could easily follow.

The gym doors were propped open.

She stepped inside... and froze.

The space smelled faintly of floor wax and teenagers’ sweat. The overhead lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the polished linoleum. Her breath caught.

This room. God, this room.

She’d spent years in here, sitting against the walls during dances, pretending she didn’t mind not being asked.

It was where she’d given her first public speech for English class, heart pounding so hard she’d thought she’d faint.

Where she’d tucked herself behind the bleachers with her notebook, scribbling stories no one ever read.

Where I learned how to escape with words, because no one invited me into the world happening around me.

Quinten led her to the center of the floor and whispered, “Don’t move.”

She blinked at him, suspicious. “Why?”

“Humor me.” He escorted her grandmother to the bleachers, before jogging toward the wall.

For a second, all she could see was the boy he used to be—lean, fast, full of untamed energy. But the man he’d become? Broader, more grounded, with strength etched into every movement. He’d always been sexy, but maturity had sharpened him, added a quiet power that made him flat-out irresistible.

She still couldn’t believe he was hers.

He fiddled with something she couldn’t quite see.

The lights went out.

Her heart stuttered. “What?—”

Then a soft spotlight flicked on, casting a warm circle of gold a few feet in front of her.

From the bleachers, a shuffle of fabric and heels echoed, and then—unexpectedly—Nana’s voice floated from the shadows. “Hush, child,” she muttered.

A phone’s screen lit up. Nana tapped it confidently, and music swelled through the gym.

Ed Sheeran. Shape of You. The acoustic version.

Raisa’s breath hitched.

Her mouth parted. “You didn’t?—”

Quinten stepped into the light. “I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I’d asked you to prom.

If I could’ve been the guy who made you feel seen back then.

” He took a slow step closer. “I can’t change the past. I can’t undo the way we treated you.

But I can do better now. I can love you the way you always deserved.

” He paused, lifted his hand. “Dance with me?”

She stared at him, at the light gilding his cheekbones, at the nervous edge to his smile. At the absolute absurdity of dancing in the school gym almost twenty years after leaving school—with her Nana in the bleachers working the music.

She kicked off her heels.

Barefoot, she stepped into the circle of light and took his hand.

His palm was warm and callused. He pulled her close, slipping one arm around her back, the other holding her hand like it was something precious. They swayed gently at first, her cheek brushing the lapel of his suit, the music settling into the hollow of her bones.

“You should have been my queen back then,” he murmured in her ear, “but I can’t change the past.”

The lump in her throat pressed harder.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. The lights, the music, the softness in his eyes—it was too much.

“What I can change”—he withdrew enough to look into her eyes—“is the future.”

And then he dropped to one knee.

Her hands flew to her mouth as he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

“Nana helped me pick it out,” he said, flipping the box open. “Which is how I know it’s perfect for you.”

The ring shimmered under the spotlight—simple, elegant, exactly her.

“Raisa Winslow,” he said, his voice steady and reverent, “marry me?”

For a moment, the air left her lungs. The lights, the music, the man in front of her—everything inside her tilted and fell into place. Emotion flooded her chest in one unstoppable wave.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then louder, steadier. “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes.”

Quinten surged to his feet just in time to catch her, as she threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking them both off balance.

Their mouths met halfway, and the kiss that followed hit her like a jolt—hungry, breath-stealing, real.

Her fingers curled into his jacket, needing the press of him, the solid warmth, the way his hand gripped her waist like he wasn’t letting go.

She kissed him harder. Because how else could she say what she felt? That she couldn’t picture a life without him. That she didn’t want to.

The world narrowed to his lips, his scent, the faint rasp of stubble against her cheek. Music still played somewhere behind her, but it felt far away. All she could feel was the heat pooling low in her belly and the dizzying rush of this is mine, finally mine.

When they broke apart, she was breathless, blinking up at him with a shaky grin. Then she turned, heart thudding, toward the bleachers.

Nana sat there like a smug little queen, with her hands folded over her handbag and a knowing gleam in her eye.

Raisa let out a helpless laugh and reached back to grab Quinten’s hand. “Come on,” she said, tugging him with her. “Let’s include her in this moment.”

Nana rose from the bleachers with surprising grace and held out her arms to them as they approached. She didn’t speak, just pulled them both into a hug that spoke volumes.

The three of them shared a hug for a long moment, and when they broke apart, Nana dabbed at her eyes with her embroidered handkerchief before declaring it was time to celebrate properly.

Quinten offered her his arm like a gentleman, and on his other side Raisa slipped her hand into his as they walked out into the bright late-morning sun.

The school doors closed behind them, shutting out the weight of the past and letting something lighter settle in its place.

As they drove through town, storefronts busy and sidewalks thawing, Raisa leaned her head against Quinten’s shoulder and let herself believe, really believe, that this new beginning was hers.

They found an open diner and tucked into a booth with pancakes, eggs, and strong coffee. Raisa couldn’t stop smiling. Every time she glanced at Quinten’s ring on her finger, her heart fluttered.

Afterward, while Quinten was paying the bill, Nana leaned in with a sly smile. “I think I’ll go home now. Let these old bones rest... and give you two time to start working on those great-grandbabies.”

Raisa’s cheeks flamed searing hot. Her hand instinctively drifted to her belly.

She hadn’t told anyone. Not yet. She wasn’t even sure. But if Nana’s wish came true, it might be more than a sweet joke—it might be real in less than nine months.

After they helped Nana into the car, Raisa leaned close to Quinten and murmured, “Can we stop by the pharmacy on the way back?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

She smiled—wide and secret and impossibly full of love. “Hopefully not.”

And as they drove off into the soft morning light, Raisa placed a hand over her belly and got a glint from the ring. Whether she was pregnant now or not, there would be love and family in her future.

THE END