Page 130 of Structure of Love

Showing we had the same brain, he rolled his eyes. No explanation needed. He was also smiling and trying to suppress it. He pulled out his phone and started the camera.

Oh good, he was in on it.

I raised my fingers to my face and arranged it into sad lines. Kinda failed. All right, arm trick it was. I quickly moved away from the table, going to the door like I was fleeing the scene. Gage followed at a distance.

The first one through the door was Grandma. She almost hugged me, then realized I had my face buried against one arm. “Oh, honey, what happened?”

“He said,” I mock-sobbed, “he said—”

“Oh no, don’t tell me Gage refused!”

“He said yes.”

There was a pause, then she whacked my arm. “LOGAN SEBASTIAN! When will you stop pranking me?!”

“The grave,” I admitted, raising my hand so I could grin at her.

She smacked my arm again. Then decided I wasn’t worth a hug, apparently, as she went and hugged Gage.

“Gage, welcome to the family!”

“Thank you, Grandma.” He hugged her, winking over her head at me.

See, this was why I loved him. He indulged my mischief.

People poured in after Grandma, all demanding the same, and Gage quickly realized everyone had been in on this except him. He didn’t seem to mind, just accepted congratulations, got in hugs, and told people our general plan for a wedding.

I watched them all—this family with my grandma and sister, Gage’s brother, and my chosen family of friends—and my heart felt full to the brim. How amazing this life of mine had become. It was no longer drudgery or something I needed spite to motivate myself through, but had become this warm, beautiful world with love, acceptance, and support like I’d never known.

All because I’d dared to ask out a structural engineer.

Thank god I’d never let the impossible scare me away, because if it had, I’d never have gotten Gage. That was a future I couldn’t fathom. I’d make a life and a home with this man.

I couldn’t wait.

Epilogue

Gage

It was finally April, which meant we could start pouring foundation. Before we did, I stopped by with string and wooden stakes so I could lay out the size of the house and get a feel for it. I always did this with new builds. I wanted to actuallyfeelout the space and make adjustments before we poured concrete. It was far easier to change things at this point than later.

Logan was right here with me, my husband more excited to do this chore than I was. He’d gotten up early, made breakfast, and poured hot coffee into two thermoses before practically dragging us over here.

The snow had finally melted, and we were in the low fifties, so the weather was turning enough to make concrete viable. It was definitely nice today—sunny, barely any hint of a breeze. I looked over our lot with satisfaction.

We’d found a two-acre lot just outside of Plymouth, off a country road, that suited us perfectly. It had lots of mature trees, and we’d placed the house in the middle of them, set deep off the road for privacy and noise reasons. Our other task today was to wrap ribbons around each of the trees we wanted to keep. Somewould need to come down just to get the heavy machinery in here, but not all, and there were several mature oak trees and pine trees I refused to log.

For a few hours, Logan followed directions as we staked, measured, and tied string to the stakes. It was a chore for sure, and my lower back protested by the time we were done.

I sipped coffee and oriented myself to the front door. “Okay, so front door is here. Walk with me, imagine there’s walls as we go.”

Logan walked at my pace, and I could tell his fertile imagination was buzzing a mile a minute. “This feels…a little narrow, somehow? Didn’t you want to build a shoe cubby and coat closet right here?”

“I do, and I agree, this feels tight.” I measured two feet from the “wall” and grunted. “That’s barely enough room for the front door to open.”

“I now understand why you wanted to walk this.”

“It always looks fine on paper, but it’s hard to judge dimensions through a screen.” Or at least it was for me, despite my experience. “I built in a bit of redundancy, just in case, and I’m glad now. I’ll need to redline this area and give us a little more room.”