As he drew back, Brandon whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

  “Me too.” I licked my lips. “You’re welcome to do it again if you want to.”

  He flashed a quick grin. “Oh, I will. But before I get to that, there’s a reason I brought you out here tonight.”

  I blinked. “There is?” As soon as I’d asked, though, I knew. I could feel it.

  And if I hadn’t guessed already, I pieced it together when Brandon carefully, using the railing for support, went down on one knee. A wince flickered across his face, but before I could say he didn’t have to kneel, he took my hand and met my gaze.

  “I can’t tell you how much I wanted to ask you this when I was Andrew,” he said as he reached into his pocket with his other hand. “But now it definitely feels like the right time.” He smiled, holding up a plain gold ring. “Will you marry me?”

  Giddiness rushed through me, and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Of course I will. Absolutely.”

  His smile was brighter than the sun.

  He started to get up, but I touched his shoulder and came down to him instead. “God, I love you,” I whispered, and claimed another kiss.

  He grinned against my lips and wrapped his arms around me. With the way that kiss deepened, I wondered if I was the only one debating canceling our dinner reservations. We needed to celebrate getting engaged, but I also… I mean, I was going to marry this man. Finally. Couldn’t we just go home and celebrate one on one?

  Yeah. Probably.

  After another kiss or two.

  Holding on to him, I was dizzy with excitement and all kinds of emotions I couldn’t even name. For long months, I’d thought Andrew was gone forever, and in a way, I’d been right.

  But Brandon had come back to Coeur d’Alene. He’d come back to me.

  And neither of us was letting go this time.

  For more books by L.A. Witt, or to subscribe to my newsletter, please visit

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  After December

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  About the Author

  L.A. Witt is a romance and suspense author who has at last given up the exciting nomadic lifestyle of the military spouse (read: her husband finally retired). She now resides in Pittsburgh, where the potholes are determined to eat her car and her cats are endlessly taunted by a disrespectful squirrel named Moose. In her spare time, she can be found painting in her art room or destroying her voice at a Pittsburgh Penguins game.

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  L. A. Witt, The Truth in My Lies

 

 

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