Lane Assignments

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Two months later... Mid-August 2017

I'm barely out of the car after working at the bookstore when Christian strides up to me and grabs my hand, practically pulling me toward the building site. I have to jog a couple of steps to catch up to him, or else risk falling face-first into the gravel.

"Keep your pants on, Grey," I say in a half-giggle, half-growl. Or don't keep them on... whatever.

He ignores me and continues to pull me up the short slope, only stopping when we are in full view of the new house. The new house. And I realize why he was in such a rush to show it to me. It finally looks like a house... not a pile of stone and timbers. The actual structure of it, as was explained to me, is an oak timber frame. And today, for the first time, it's standing tall and proud.

I notice that the workers' trucks are all gone, the worksite quiet. Usually, they take advantage of every bit of the long summer days. "Where is everyone?" I ask.

"Elsewhere. Come," he says, and tugs me forward again, over the rutted ground and up the stone front steps, stepping into what will be the entryway.

I notice a small pile of curly wood shavings at my feet and look up. Freshly carved into the lintel is a bold 2017. "Oh wow... 2017" is all I can manage, as I take a look around me.

The great room, with its huge stone fireplace opens to our left. To our right is a smaller room, which could be a dining room or an office, and beyond that will be the kitchen. The open stairway will be directly in front of us, but it's not even roughed in yet. Only the beams are in place, giving suggestions of what is to come.

"Yes, 2017, the year this house - and we - were established," he says softly, stepping up behind me and pulling me in close.

This summer has been perfect - amazing. We've been able to spend long evenings talking, having deep conversations about ourselves, our pasts, our hopes for the future. Sometimes it's just sipping beers while poring over house plans or searching online for our next race. And sometimes we're faced with more difficult topics, ones that dredge up old feelings. Just last week, I received notification that my divorce from Jose was final. He is still in Panama, awaiting sentencing, but legally I am freed of him. I hadn't felt married to him for a long time - if ever - but knowing that bond was broken lifted a weight I hadn't even realized was there.

He leads me further into the house and there, hanging from a high peg, is a long piece of thin twine. He takes the free end of the twine and loops it around the fourth finger of my left... oh God.

"Anastasia," he says, while tying the twine in a perfect knot around my finger, "you are my past and my present. And I want us to look forward, into the future, as one."

He looks up at me after he finishes tying the knot, and I can only nod, wiping my eyes with my free hand.

"I know that, officially, we've only been together for a few months, but I know - and I hope you feel it too - that we're meant to be. Will you marry me?"

I nod again, and I can feel the tears as they stream down my cheeks.

He leans in and kisses me softly. "Let me hear you, baby. Tell me you'll marry me."

"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you," I manage to squeak out.

With this, he leans away from me and tugs firmly on the twine. Something shiny - something that's sparking in the setting sun - slides down the twine and lands perfectly on my finger.