Southern Storm (Southern 3) - Page 81

I get up now, tossing the sheet to the side. “Will you come with me?” I ask, putting on my own shirt. “I mean, after you put pants on. Will you come with me?”

“Where?” she asks, and I look at her.

“It’s a surprise,” I say, and she just looks at me. I walk to her, taking her cheek in the palm of my hand. She tilts her head to the side, pushing into it. “But it’s a good one.”

“Okay,” she whispers. After she puts on shorts, we walk to the truck. She climbs in, and I turn to her before I start the truck.

“Can you do me a favor?” I ask, and she looks over at me. “Can you close your eyes? I want you to see it when it’s time.”

“I hate surprises,” she tells me, leaning back and closing her eyes. “Like I hate it more than coriander.” I laugh because she really hates surprises. One time, I wanted to throw her a surprise party, and she didn’t even show up. I had to go and get her at home.

“I know but trust me,” I say, “you’ll love this one.” I make my way over to the place where I’ve spent the past seven days. The number of splinters that I had removed this week has to surpass one hundred. I pull up and finally see it in the sunlight. I get out and walk over to her side of the truck, opening the door and grabbing her hand. “Keep your eyes closed,” I say, and she walks slowly with me. “Almost there,” I say, and when we are finally in the right spot. “Okay,” I tell her, watching her face. “You can open your eyes.”

Her eyes flicker open, and I see them take in the building that everyone has spent the whole week working on. “What in the world?” She looks at what she last saw as a pile of rubble. “How did you …?” She looks at her bar in shock.

“God,” I say, looking down, “I had this whole speech set up for when you came back home, and now, I don’t know what to say. When you left, you said that you didn’t feel at ease in this town. You said that everyone always looked at you with a sneer or a leer.” I turn to look at her. “But the town made this possible.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, walking toward the new bar.

“I’m talking about how the whole town came together to rebuild Savannah’s Bar,” I say. “Every single day, almost twenty-four hours a day, people would show up to help rebuild this place.” I look over at the sign that we just put up last night that says Savannah’s Bar. “People would go to work and then show up at night to offer help.”

“You did this?” She blinks away tears. “You made this happen.”

“I want to take all the credit, but I couldn’t have done it without everyone coming down and helping. Let’s go look inside.”

I grab her hand and walk over to the door, opening it and stepping in. “Anything that you don’t like can be returned,” I say. The bar that was old is now in a shape of an L, and there are more stools than there were before. New tables and chairs are scattered around as well as high-top tables. “There is a bigger stage for the bands.” I point at the big stage against the wall. “There are also six pool tables and two dartboards.” I point at the raised level. “There are two steps so they can watch the dance floor.”

“This is …” she says, looking around. “I don’t know what to say,” she sobs.

“You mentioned when we got married that a house is just a house, and it’s who is inside that makes them a home. This …” I put my hands out. “Savannah, this is your home. It’s what you built. You may think that people don’t like you, but there are more than you know who will stand up with you and not against you.”

She puts her hands to her mouth and starts to shake with tears. “I can’t believe this.”

“If you don’t want it and don’t want to stay here, we can go wherever you want,” I say, and she looks at me shocked. “I’m nothing without you, so if you say the word and decide that this isn’t what you want, then we will find a place where you want to be.”

“You would do that?” she asks. “You would walk away from everything?”

“I’m empty without you,” I say. “This whole week just proved to me that my heart beats just for you, and only when you’re around. I was empty, a shell of a man.” I walk to her. “You, Savannah, where you are is my home. Beside you, holding your hand, kissing you, laughing with you, fighting with you, making love to you. That is where my home is.” I get down on one knee in front of her. “I know that this is late, and technically, we are already married, but …” I take a huge deep breath. “Will you marry me? I mean, this time for real.”

Tags: Natasha Madison Southern Romance
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