Page 82 of The Last Person

“It’s beautiful. I want all the details tomorrow.”

“I promise.”

A text comes through from Hallie, and I pull it up.

Hallie: Brian just left. Have fun tonight! Can’t wait for pictures.

“He’s on his way back, so I’ve got to go. I’ll text you. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I end the call, then spin around and take a picture of the gardens all lit up. Finding the group chat I made with the Baker Girls gang—not including Brian—when I told them all about this and asked for their help a few weeks ago, I send the picture.

Me: Think he’ll like it?

Hallie: He’ll LOVE it.

Kennedy: You did so good. It’s going to be amazing!

Justin: It looks even better in the dark.

Jade: Seriously!! Oh my gosh. I’m totally writing a scene like this into one of my books someday. So romantic.

Devon: It’s perfect. The best way to propose is with something personal to you two, and this is. Enjoy it!

Markie Mark: Love this for you guys. Can’t wait for (PG) details.

Frannie: Seriously! Mark’s been listening to me squeak about this for the last two minutes. It’s gorgeous. So happy for you!

Wilson: I just got home, but it looks amazing.

Me: Thank you all for your help and support. I’ll send updates later. Or tomorrow.

Tucking my phone away, I head back through the garden, turn off the lights, then go plate up the takeout that’s staying warm in the oven, so I can spend a romantic night with my man.

“Isthe surprise which part of our bodies will freeze off first?” Brian teases as I lead him outside.

“It could be colder,” I say. It’s only in the upper thirties tonight. Much better than the string of single-digit nights we had a few weeks ago. “Plus, this will be worth it.”

He might guess what’s going on, but I don’t care. At this point, it’s not about the surprise, it’s about the moment.

Twining my gloved hand with his, I lead him across the patio and to the gate to the garden.

“Ready?”

“For what?”

I flick the switch, and the garden lights up. Brian’s eyes go wide.

“Wha—when did you…?” His eyes narrow.

I shrug. “Maybe I didn’t bask in your scentallday.”

Some kind of realization hits him, but I’m not ready yet, so I squeeze his hand tighter and lead him through the garden. “I wanted to celebrate being home,” I tell him. “And I know this is your happy place.”

“It is. This is stunning. Thank you.”

“It gets better. Come on.”