Emily slips away from me, into the living room and out onto the porch. “Isaiah, let’s head to the clubhouse.”
I follow, and I hear footsteps as everyone in the house follows as well.
“Emily,” I say softly as a growing sense of purpose takes hold of me.
“This is going to be such a great party,” she continues.
“Emily,” I say a bit louder. When she glances at me over her shoulder, her long dark hair falls all around her, and I lose the ability to breathe. I love her. More than anything. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want her to want to spend the rest of her life with me, as well.
The entire porch goes quiet—Razor, Breanna, Chevy, Violet, Isaiah, Rachel, Eli, Nina, Cyrus, Hook, Pigpen, Caroline, my mom and dad. I don’t know why they’re so silent. Maybe because everyone here knows how long I’ve been wanting to do this.
Emily stares at me, a question in her eyes, and I stare back, hoping and praying that she does love me as much as I love her.
Lots of people are gathered in the yard, there to keep Isaiah from going into the clubhouse so he doesn’t see his gift. As the silence stretches on the porch, the loud conversation and laughter in the yard dies. Emily glances around as if searching for answers, but all anyone does is watch her.
“What’s going on?” she says, and no one answers.
“Emily,” I say again, and the tenderness in my voice, the pure love I have for her, causes it to be deeper than normal.
She turns to fully face me then, the confusion still there, but there’s a softness in her expression. Probably because the only time she hears that tone of voice from me is when I whisper how much I love her during our private moments.
“Emily Catherine Star, from the moment you entered my life, you have been an amazing challenge.”
There’s a low rumble of laughter from the people who remember how Emily and I butted heads for weeks when we first met. How she called me out on my crap, how I challenged her to love this family, and how I was pissed she stood in the way of my goals. Then I think of how she learned to trust me, how I learned to trust her, and how we learned to love each other.
I think of how terror seized me when she was held by a rival motorcycle club. How I was afraid that they would harm her, how I knew then I didn’t want to live without her, and how I marveled at her courage when she saved her father’s life.
“But I liked the challenge. Craved it even. You have taught me how to be a better man, how to chase after what I want in life and you’ve taught me how to love. I wanted this moment to be perfect. I’ve spent months trying to create the perfect time alone with you so I could propose, but I didn’t propose because it wasn’t perfect enough. Because that’s what I want for you Emily—I want you to have it all.”
She places a hand to her heart and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. “But you and I have never been perfect. We’ve taken so many untraveled paths, and we’re better for it. So maybe this is our perfect—this moment, on this porch, where we had our first real conversations together.”
“All these people…” I glance around, “they love you. Almost as much as I do, and you love them back. I don’t need time alone to do this. Me and you, we’re right where we need to be—surrounded by our friends and family.”
With a knot in my throat, I pull the ring out of my front pocket. This wasn’t just three months of savings, but a year.
Emily watches me as I lower down to not one knee, but two. I’ll beg her if I need. But with the way she’s looking at me now—the same way she did when I first told her that I loved her, the same way she does when I take her into my arms—peace overflows my heart as I already know her answer. “Will you grant me the honor of being your husband?”
Emily’s eyes glisten with tears, happy tears, and she nods repeatedly and holds out her shaking hand to me.
Me.
Oz—Member of the Reign of Terror Motorcycle Club and employee of the security company.
Jonathan—Special Education teacher and part-time soccer coach for the elementary school.
The man who loves her with every ounce of my being. Emily. My Emily is going to become my bride.
I slip the ring onto her finger, and the entire porch and yard descend into shouts of approval and applause. Emily laughs as someone suggests we get married tonight, and Eli fires back with, “No way. Emily’s mom would kill me.”
I cradle Emily’s face with my hands and whisper down to her, “I hope you won’t mind a big wedding.”
“I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t. After all, they’re my family, too. But you’ve been right about one thing tonight, and I’d like to make that right.”
My forehead furrows. “What?”
Her darks eyes spark with excitement and a sexy, sly grin touches her lips. “We do need time alone.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
Her wish, my command. I lean down, swoop Emily up in my arms and a new wave of cheers roars around us as I carry her off the porch and through the crowd, then place her on the seat of my motorcycle.
I slip on and nothing feels as right as her form pressed into my back, her arms wrapped around my waist, and her lips tickling my neck. I start the bike, the engine roars, and the frame rumbles beneath us. I glance back at my fiancée. “You ready?”
“For anything.”
With her by my side? I’m ready for anything, too.
Chapter 42
Isaiah
“It’s a damn fine motorcycle,” I say. I’m not that into bikes so that’s saying a lot. The motorcycle is a beautiful piece of machinery, and I can tell that this one has been customized by the hands of someone who has appreciation, reverence, and love for it.
The clubhouse is packed with people, and they’re nearly as silent as they were when Oz proposed to Emily. The two of them left, rightly so. If anyone needs a few minutes alone to enjoy their moment, it’s them.
“It’s your dad’s,” Eli says quietly, but there’s no doubt everyone standing in the large room heard. His statement becomes an echo in the room and in my brain.
My dad.
James McKinley.
He was beloved by most of the people in this room, but I don’t remember him. I was still in diapers when he died. I didn’t even know he was my father until I was close to eighteen, and I didn’t know that I had family who would have wanted me until after eighteen.
I cross my arms over my chest as I stare at the bike, trying to see the man who helped create me. According to Nina, my half-brother Chevy’s mom, James was in love with my mom, but my mom had a hard time committing to him. Knowing Mom like I do, I can see it, and I also know Mom regrets how she treated James in the past.
My father was an undercover police officer, investigating a rival motorcycle club who was threatening his family. He laid the foundation of the case against the rival club that brought to justice people who needed to be off the streets. The current lead investigator of the rival club called my dad a hero.
The bike is shiny, the silver chrome buffed to the point I can see myself in it. They say I look like my father, and I try to imagine what he would have looked like crouched low, working on the machine. Did he find the same peace of mind I do whenever he had a tool in his hand and was working to solve a problem? Did he also take on lost-cause projects because there was a satisfaction in knowing that you were one of the few who could resurrect the dead?