Becoming the Whiskey Princess
Page 10

“I would have never done that before,” he says softly. “Sing for ya like that.”
“Sure the hell wouldn’t,” I hear Kane call out, and I hadn’t realized he was here, but he is, wrapped around Fiona like a glove.
Smiling, I look back down at Declan and cup his jaw. “It was beautiful. Thank you.”
“Anything for ya, Amberlyn. Really. Anything and everything you want, you’ll have because I honestly can’t live this life without you. I can’t believe I found ya, across a lake, looking so gorgeous. You stunned me. First glance, I was a goner. When I first talked to you and you poked me in the middle of my forehead, I knew I was going to love you my whole damn life. You’ve taken over my thoughts, my heart, and brought me out of the shell I’ve lived in for so long. I became alive when I met you.”
Tears burn my eyes as I hold his gaze. “Oh, Declan,” I say softly, and he smiles.
“Nothing feels like you. Nothing can add up to what you give me. I want to say I chose ya first, but I didn’t. My heart did, and by the time my brain and the rest of my body caught up, I was gone with ya. I never want to let ya go. So,” he says, pausing. I glance over to where he is looking as Fiona hands him a book. Meeting my gaze again, he says, “I want you to have this.”
When he places it in my lap, I look up at him in shock. It’s his Pride and Prejudice first edition.
“No, this is your great-times-ten-grandma’s,” I say, running my fingers down the front of it. I love this book and would love to say it was mine, but it isn’t, and I can’t allow him to give it to me. No matter how much I want it.
“Yeah, it was and so is what is inside.”
Intrigued, I open the book but don’t see anything. “Huh?”
He pulls on the little string bookmark, and at the bottom of the fabric is a ring tied to it. Blinking in complete shock, I pick it up and gawk at the gorgeousness of this ring. A huge oval diamond sits on a gold band that is encrusted with smaller diamonds. It is stunning and beautiful, very vintage. So completely me. I meet Declan’s gaze, and he smiles as he takes the ring from my fingers and unties it. Holding it out, he looks deep into my eyes, and I can see the tears welling up in his own eyes. He is so beautiful, his ice-blue eyes burning with love for me. I can see every single one of his emotions, and I can’t believe that, so quickly, I can read him like this. He is nervous but completely in love with me, just the way I want him.
“My grandma who wore this ring and bought this book was married for forty-six years to my grandda. They were mad for each other, and she loved this ring and this book, but I want you to have them.”
A tear escapes my eye, and I try to hold in the others, but it doesn’t work well. He smiles as his fingers thread with mine while his other hand holds the ring out to me. “These things are part of my history, and I want you to have them because you are my future.”
“Declan,” I gasp, my lip wobbling as I hold his gaze.
“I love ya, Amberlyn, and I would like nothing more than for you to be my wife. To make this life worth living because without ya, I’m nothing. So will ya have me?”
I don’t even answer him. I let my lips do the talking and ignore the sting in my chest or the exclamation of the audience. I mark the pain off as my heart exploding in my chest, and I couldn’t care less about the people in the room. The only thing that matters is the fact I’ll never love anyone the way I love Declan O’Callaghan.
I am finally feeling like myself.
It’s been almost four weeks since I was shot, and I feel fantastic. Yeah, it still hurts a bit here and there when I do things, but I know that I am healed. My wound is scabbed over and isn’t swollen anymore. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health, which is such a blessing since they thought I would die when it all first happened. But like my mom said, it wasn’t my time. Which is fine with me. While I miss her and my dad so much, I am about to spend the rest of my life with Declan.
Swoon...
It’s been a week since he proposed “the right way,” as he says. I still can’t believe how extraordinarily romantic it all was. I never expected that from him. I was fine with the way he did it in the hospital and thought that was how he operated, but then he blew my flipping mind with his real proposal. I swear I’ll never forget the way his eyes sparkled as he looked deep into mine. The way he sang to me, only for me. Or the way he held the ring up to me as his eyes pleaded for my forever.
Which he already had.
He’s changing right before my eyes, and I love it. I remember the first time I met him, when he was looking at me, his brow furrowed with the worst case of resting bitchface! He was so closed-off, almost scared of me, although it didn’t take much to pull him from his shell. Now when he looks at me, I feel nothing but indescribable love.
I know that Fiona and even my aunt and uncle think I’m crazy. That this is all insane, but I know it’s not crazy. It’s real. If my mom were here, she would believe in this. She always told me to fight for what I believe in. To never give up. That she’d rather I stand for what I believe in alone than stand for something I don’t. I know that it’s fast, and that it wouldn’t hurt to be engaged for a long time, but why wait when we are so in love? I know they think it’s because of the distillery, but that has nothing to do with it. I know he would give it up for me; though, I would never allow him to do that.
We are getting married because we love each other.
The distillery issue just rushed us along.
Coming down the stairs, I smile at my aunt as I reach for my shoes.
“Where ya off to?” she asks with a grin on her face.
“Declan is picking me up for dinner with his family.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” she says before looking down at the newspaper she is reading. Rolling my eyes, I hate that she is being so standoffish about it all. I know she doesn’t agree, but can’t she support me? Heading for her, I pause when I see the headline on her paper.
Will Amberlyn Reilly, the future Whiskey Princess, testify against her shooter?
“Why do you read that crap?” I find myself asking as I sit on the arm of her chair. Meeting my gaze with the same dark brown eyes of my father, she smiles.
“’Cause I’m nosy as shite. Have to know what they are saying about you.”
“And?” I ask, even though I don’t care.