Raindrops spit from a bloated sky and splatter against my windshield. The sunny morning has given way to a dreary afternoon, appropriate weather for cancellations. I do not hem and haw or drag my heels or dip my toe into the water. I don’t even let Lily help me. I created the mess. The least I can do is clean it up. So as soon as I leave my parents’ house, I dive in, trying not to imagine the news spreading across Mayfair faster than kennel cough. I have already called and canceled the barbecue, the flowers, the alterations—leaving voice mail messages wherever live people were taking the Sabbath off. All I have left is the cake. Jake can take care of the venue, since it’s his aunt and uncle’s place.
My heart hurts, but I refuse to indulge in any wallowing. I’m not going to spend whatever time remains with my dad pining after Jake. I pull up to the curb and park my car as thunder rumbles in the distance, the black horizon hinting at the wrath to come. I climb out of my car, hurry across the street through the cold drizzle, and step inside the warmth of Eloise’s bakery. I am glad she opens her shop on Sunday afternoons.
She smiles behind the counter, her face wrinkled with age and laugh lines. “Emma! What can I get for you this afternoon—some muffins?”
“Four of your chocolate cupcakes.” Because it’s my vet technician’s birthday tomorrow and I’d like to take him a treat for all the extra hours he’s been working. “And I need to cancel the wedding cake.”
Her eyes widen. “Cancel the cake? But you have to have cake at the wedding.”
“There isn’t going to be a wedding.” The tone of my voice does not invite further questions. I can answer them later, when my emotions aren’t so raw.
Eloise’s face falls. “Oh, well, I’m sure sorry to hear about that.”
“Me too.”
She processes my payment and hands me a container of cupcakes as the pitter-patter of raindrops turns into a downpour that pounds against the roof of the bakery. I turn around and look out the window. Normally, I’d wait inside and enjoy a muffin and some hot tea until the downpour passes, but I can feel Eloise studying the back of my head. Staying would only invite questions. I’d rather get wet. Clutching the cupcakes under one arm, I pull up the hood of my jacket, toss a wave over my shoulder, and make a mad dash outside, over the curb, out into the street.
“Emma!”
I stop in the middle of the road. Turn slowly. And my breath catches. Because it’s Jake. Standing several paces away, his hat and the shoulders of his jacket soaked through, his chest heaving as though he sprinted all the way from his house.
“Jake?” I shield my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I’m a liar,” he shouts over at me.
“What?” I squint through the rain, positive the din from the storm warped Jake’s words.
He steps closer, joining me in the middle of the street, and the storm around us is nothing compared to the one raging in his eyes. “Earlier today I lied. When I told you that your happiness is all I care about.” Rain wets his lips. “It should be, but it’s not.”
I shake my head, unwilling to believe. Unwilling to hope.
“I left because of you.”
“What?”
“All those years ago. The reason I left town is because I couldn’t watch you get married to Chase. What I should have told you this morning, what I should have told you that day I offered to marry you on the porch, what I should have told you that night after you graduated high school”—he wipes his hand down his face—“Is that I love you.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t even move.
“I feel like I’ve loved you forever, but I’ve never been able to say it. The timing was never right. You were my best friend’s kid sister. I was going to college and then you were with Chase and then Ben died and your dad was diagnosed with cancer. And I never could tell if you felt the same way. But no regrets, remember?” Before I fully process what he’s saying, Jake gets down on his knee, in the middle of the street, in the middle of the rain, and takes out a small velvet box from the pocket of his coat.
My hand moves to my chest.
He opens the box and inside is the same ring I’ve worn every day since we sat in Jake’s idling truck outside my parents’ home. Only he’s offering it to me now, not to make our story more believable but because this is real. Jake is down on one knee in the middle of the street in the pouring rain, and there’s only one reason I know of for a man to get on one knee . . .
“Marry me.”
Emotion climbs up my throat. I cup my hand over my mouth to trap the sob inside.
“I don’t want a wedding, Emma. I want a marriage. To you. Because nothing—and I mean nothing—would make me happier than spending the rest of my life trying to make you happy.” Jake looks up at me through the rain, waiting as his breath escapes in clouds of white.
Unable to remove my hand from my mouth, unable to show Jake the smile forming beneath my palm, I nod, my heart swelling with so much joy I think it might explode.
“Yes?”
I nod again, faster, and remove my hand. “Yes!”
And just like that, Jake has me in his arms. He twirls me in a circle, then kisses me—a rain-soaked, wonderful kiss with my feet off the ground, a kiss a thousand times better and more passionate than our first kiss in Patty’s. And then we are both laughing, like we can’t believe this moment. Like we can’t believe ourselves.
“Do you really mean yes—not because of your dad’s bucket list, but because this is what you want?”
“Jake, this is what I’ve wanted since the second grade.”
He sets me down and presses his wet forehead against mine. “I am an idiot.”
“Hey, that’s my fiancé you’re talking about. My real-life, not-fake fiancé.” I stand up on my tiptoes and press my lips against his. It’s a wonderful, giddy, heart-pattering feeling kissing Jake. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the wonder of it. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like that ring back.”
Jake doesn’t hesitate. As soon as it’s back on my finger, he turns my hand up and kisses my palm. “Don’t take it off again, okay?”
I shake my head. “Never.”