Page 114 of Just My Luck
My eyes went wide as I looked at Abel. The man had the audacity to look away and blush. “Are you serious?”
He smiled at me, letting his fingertips smooth down a strand of my long hair. “Warm notes of biscuit and honey. Just like you.”
I was floored. He’d created something just for me, and it was incredible. “I thought you were creating something new for MJ.”
A sheepish smile curled the corner of his lip. “I still am.” He lifted a shoulder and looked across the room at his little sister, who was chatting with a group of friends. “Hers is more of a winter brew. This one is just for you.”
Meatball nodded. “Right on, man. Tell her the best part.” He slid the bottle across the table, and I picked it up. “Look at the artwork.”
Brewer’s Wifewas across the front of the label, but I recognized the illustration style immediately. My eyes flew to Abel’s. “Did Tillie draw this?”
On cue, my daughter collided with my leg, hugging my middle with her brother following behind her. “Mom!”
“Hey!” I squeezed her tightly. “Did you see this? It’s amazing, Till!”
She beamed up at me. “Abel said it was a surprise. Isn’t it cool?”
At the bottom of the design was a honeybee in Tillie’s quirky, cartoon style.
“I said to put flowers on it,” Ben added.
I hugged my twins. “It’s perfect.”
Tillie looked up at me. “Granddad said we can hurl ourselves down the sand dunes, and he and Miss Bug will judge us. Can we? Please?”
I laughed at their wide-eyed pleading. “Of course. Just please stay out of trouble.”
Without even hearing my plea, they were off, weaving through people to find my granddad. I looked at the bottle again. “Brewer’s Wife?”
Abel’s dark eyes were intense. “If she’ll still have me.”
I leaned into him. “I guess this means we’re still married.”
His face grew serious, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no. The paperwork was filed, and my lawyer said it’ll still go through.”
Confused and hurt, I scrunched my brow. When he grinned, I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him.
Abel widened his palms. “Look, I promised Tillie a new wedding so she can wear a fancy dress. My hands are tied.”
A shocked laugh burst out of me. “You’re going to let the State of Michigan grant us a divorce just so you can appease a seven-year-old?”
Abel’s grin widened. “Not entirely.”
He stepped back and reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square box. My hand flew to my mouth.
“Sloane Robinson. My wife. When you found me, I was a broken man, but you weren’t afraid to scoop up the pieces and show me how they could fit back together into something entirely new. Your love gave me the courage to look inside myself. To get better. I promise to love Ben and Tillie as fiercely as I would my own. I promise to love you forever.”
Abel dropped to one knee in front of our friends and family. He opened the small box, revealing the most gorgeous ring I’d ever seen. The cushion cut solitaire danced with fire. “Will you marry me... again?”
Tears flowed down my cheeks as I clutched my left hand to my chest. “But I love the ring I have.”
Abel smiled and shook his head. “You’ll keep it. My mother was the first woman I ever loved, and you’ll be the last. Her ring belongs to you. The diamond is just because you deserve some sparkle.”
I flung myself at Abel, wrapping my arms around him. “Yes. Oh, Abel, yes!”
He laughed—the sweetest-sounding rumble in the world—and stood, taking me with him as everyone in the brewery clapped, whistled, and cheered behind us.
The man I’d fallen for was grumpy, brooding, and head over heels in love with me.