"I'm not . . . Oh, the picture. Wedding Day, the one you took when you were a girl."
"Epiphanies. I had one then, and I had one tonight. I want this." She took the picture from him. "I want . . . Here." She looked around, chose a spot on one of his bookshelves. "I want that. It looks right there, doesn't it?"
Something squeezed his heart. "Yes. It belongs there."
"It doesn't come with a guarantee. Why should it? It's not a car or a computer. It's life, and it's messy, and it breaks down. It's a promise, to try. I want to promise to try. Carter."
She walked back to take his face in her hands. "Carter Maguire, I love you."
As the fist around his heart clenched and released, he lowered his brow to hers. "Say it again, would you?"
"It's the first time I've said it to anyone-this way, I mean. I don't know why I thought it would be so hard. It's not. I love you. I love who we are together. I love who I think we might be. I'll screw up. So will you, you're not perfect. We'll hurt each other, and make each other laugh. We'll make love and we'll fight. I want us to promise to try not to let each other go. Trying's all we can do."
He met her lips with his. There was the promise, he thought. There was everything he'd waited for. There was Mackensie, and she loved him.
"I'm so glad you didn't make the bed."
Her laugh muffled against his lips before she tipped her head back. "That was one element of many that coalesced into a moment of absolute clarity. And I needed to tell you. I couldn't wait. You're the one who waits so well."
"It was worth it. Look what I've got."
"I want to tell you something. On Valentine's Day-our Valentine's Day-when it wasn't a ring in the box, part of me was disappointed. That's what scared me. I'm not scared now."
His eyes focused on hers, and what he saw in them had his heart leaping. "I want a life with you, Mackensie."
"I'm asking you to ask me."
Gently, he brushed his lips to her forehead. "I love your face, and your hands." He took them in his to press a kiss to her palms. "The way you look when you hold a camera, or hunch at the computer. I have dozens of images, pictures, and moments of you in my head. In my heart. I want a lifetime more. Marry me."
"Yes."
"Yes." He drew her to him, held on. "She said yes. Let's get married in June."
She pulled back. "June? We're booked solid. That's-" When he grinned, she narrowed her eyes. "You're a funny guy, Carter."
Laughing, he wrapped his arms around her once more. "I'll take the first open date, if that suits you."
"That's a deal. Speaking for my partners, let me say Vows is thrilled to provide its services, and promises to give you a perfect wedding."
"I've got you. It's already perfect."
She held him, strong and close, through the kiss. Then she laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
From the bookshelf their faces smiled out at her. Moments came and went, she thought. It was love that bound them together into a life.
She had love.
KEEP READING FOR A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF THE NEXT BOOK IN THE BRIDE QUARTET BY NORA ROBERTS
BED of ROSES
COMING IN DECEMBER 2009 FROM BERKLEY BOOKS
SINCE DETAILS CROWDED HER MIND, MANY OF THEM BLURRY, Emma checked her appointment book over her first cup of coffee. The back-to-back consults gave her nearly as much of a boost as the strong, sweet brew. Basking in it, she leaned back in the chair in her cozy office to read over the side notes she'd added to the entries for each client.
In her experience, the personality of the couple-or often, more accurately, of the bride-helped her determine the tone of the consult, the direction they'd pursue. To Emma's way of thinking, flowers were the heart of a wedding. Whether they were elegant or fun, elaborate or simple, the flowers were the romance.
It was her job to give the client all the heart and romance they desired.
She sighed, stretched, then smiled at the vase of petite roses on her desk. Spring, she thought, was the best. The wedding season kicked into full gear-which meant busy days and long nights designing, arranging, creating, not only for this spring's weddings, but the next as well.
She loved the continuity as much as the work itself.
That's what Vows had given her and her three best friends. Continuity, rewarding work, and that sense of personal accomplishment. And she got to play with flowers, live with flowers, practically swim in flowers every day.
Thoughtfully, she examined her hands, the little nicks and tiny cuts. Some days she thought of them as battle scars and others as medals of honor. This morning she just wished she'd remembered to fit in a manicure.