Beg, Borrow, or Steal (When in Rome, #3)(104)

“Actually, all of this has had me thinking . . . if I ever get this book deal—”

“Pen name or real name? The age-old question.”

The wind tosses her hair because she may have traded her old truck for my SUV today, but she’s still got the window down, refusing to use the AC. “I’m leaning toward a pen name since I’m going to be writing explicit content and still teaching second grade. But . . . I don’t think I want to be completely hidden like you were.”

“Somewhere in the middle? You can absolutely do that. Parents still might recognize you or find you on socials . . . but that wouldn’t be the worst.”

“Wait,” she says, glancing briefly at me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how you came up with your pen name. Why Ranger?”

“Oh.” I was hoping she wouldn’t ask. “Well, the AJ part is just my first and middle name swapped. Jackson Alexander. And Ranger . . .” I grimace, knowing she’s going to eat this up. “Ranger was actually the name of the stuffed bear I slept with as a kid. He was the first comforting thing in my life, and so it felt right to give that name to the next comfort too. My books.”

She presses her hand dramatically to her heart like she’s just been stabbed. “That is so sweet it physically hurts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, swatting her hand playfully away from her chest. “Back to you. Do you have a pen name in mind yet?”

“No.” She grins and looks at me from the side of her eye. “But you know what this means? I might eventually have to tell Bart about my book . . . after all we went through to keep it from him.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” I pick up her hand and kiss her knuckles. “It let me sneak into your heart when you weren’t expecting it. Plus, I’ll never regret buying you more time to reveal your book on your own terms when you want.”

Her smile is sad when she looks at me. “Jack . . .”

“No, no. Don’t give me that face. I’m good today. I’m feeling confident about my next steps.”

“Good.” She pulls into the community parking lot and cuts the engine. Taking a little hairbrush out of her purse, she smooths it through her hair, because even though she prefers the window down, she’s still Emily and doesn’t want a hair out of place. Before we get out, I can’t help but lean over and steal a kiss. She steals one right back.

I take her hand once we’re out of the truck, and hand in hand we walk from the parking lot toward the flower shop. It’s surreal to look to my left and see a reflection of Emily in her cream linen summer dress and me in my bright-blue-and-green-striped knit tee, holding hands—two people the universe constantly threw together until we realized we were meant to be.

And today I get to go to my first family function with her as her boyfriend. It’s Will Griffin’s birthday and Annie is throwing him a surprise party in her shop. Except . . .

“Emily, this doesn’t look like a normal surprise party,” I say as we step inside.

There are warm string lights all over the place, and hundreds of magnolia flowers dotting every surface. It’s the most romantic surprise party I’ve ever seen.

Emily doesn’t have time to answer me because Annie pops up in front of us.

“Hi!” she says, giving Emily a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug to me. She’s wearing a floral sundress, and her hair is braided in one thick rope over one shoulder.

“You look so beautiful, Annie!” says Emily with misty tears in her eyes. “Do you need anything?”

“Nope. I’m good,” says Annie, looking at Emily with an expression so full of underlying meaning it makes my chest ache. Emily feels it too because I can see her throat working to keep her tears back.

Annie lightly pushes Emily’s shoulder. “Now get back there with everyone else and be quiet!”

“Okay, we’re going! Just let me know if you need—”

“EMILY! GO!”

Laughing, I take Emily’s hand and pull her toward the back of the store, where I see Amelia’s head peeking out from the storeroom.

And suddenly, it all clicks. “This isn’t actually a surprise party, is it?”

Emily smiles with her lips closed and shakes her head side to side. We just barely make it into the back and greet Noah, Amelia, James, and Mabel (and Madison through FaceTime on Amelia’s phone) before the front door is jingling open.

Will’s voice fills the space. “Anna-banana, are you—” His voice stops. Emily is vibrating with energy beside me. She can’t take it anymore and peeks out from behind the curtain separating the main space from the storeroom. Everyone else quickly does the same and I imagine we must look like six floating heads stacked on top of each other this way.

But there he is—Will, with his butterfly tattoo that I’m incredibly jealous of, is standing at the entrance of the shop, surrounded by magnolia flowers and faced with Annie Walker, down on one knee. She begins with “Wilbur, William, Wilton, Griffin . . . I am so deeply in love with you. . . .” And the man is all flexing jaws, misty eyes, and a bobbing throat as the love of his life proposes to him.

“You’ve asked me a few times already, but my answer was always not yet,” Annie says, taking his butterfly hand. “But now, I’ve never been more ready in my life. Will . . . would you pretty please with sugar on top, marry me?”