“Mont.” She gave him a don’t-mess-with-me look.
Mont gave it right back. “What?”
“You can’t give up the role.”
“Well, I’m not losing you.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I sold The Sandy Tortilla so I could come on-location with you during filming. So we could be together.”
She’d given up so much for him. Would he ever be able to live up to that?
“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m going to try to be the man you deserve.”
“You already are.”
Mont knew he wasn’t, but he wanted to be.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sophie felt the weight of eyes on her, and when she looked up, she found Lucy, Blaine and Polly hovering near the corner. She wiggled off Mont’s lap, though she was perfectly happy there.
He followed her eyes and went back to his own seat, though his heated gaze never left hers. “Did you order real food for us?” he asked as he sat down.
Food? He looked good enough to eat in his low-slung jeans and hipster black-and-white polo shirt. His shoulders and arms didn’t quite fit the slim cut, and Sophie appreciated the way the fabric strained against his muscles.
She felt overdressed in her little black number, but the way Mont had devoured her with his eyes when he’d first arrived left little doubt in her mind about what he’d been thinking.
“Food. Yes.” She cleared her throat. “But I have a few more things I want to talk about.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of folded papers.
She ignored Mont’s curious expression as she added an item to one of her lists. “OK,” she said. “So you’re going to call Lars in the morning and confirm you want this role.” She looked up and fixed him with a pointed glare.
He held up his hands in surrender, that alluring smile still riding his mouth. She looked away, distracted.
“Whatever you say,” he said.
Strong relief flowed through her. She did not want to be the reason Mont couldn’t act. She was terrified she’d never be enough for him, but she’d just need to get over it. He’s not Clint, she reminded herself. She had a feeling she’d have to do so for a while until it sunk in.
“You need to be in Spain for shooting on January fourth, right?”
“If that’s what the email said,” Mont replied.
She rolled her eyes. “You know the date. Don’t act like you don’t.”
He laughed, that boisterous laugh that made her want to revel in his happiness.
“So January fourth. I sold the taco stand for quite a bit.” She shuffled some papers where she’d been running the numbers of her new budget. “I should have enough to get by for a while in Europe. I just don’t know what I’m going to do all day while you’re on the set. I’m usually bored out of my mind on my days off.”
“I’ll bet,” he said. “There’re only so many lists a person can make.”
Sophie couldn’t argue, and she joined a small smile to his. He glanced at her finances and leaned across the table to check her list. “Did you seriously make a list of things you could do in Spain?”
“Maybe.” But there was no maybe about it. She faced the same fear now as she had when Clint kept asking her to give up The Sandy Tortilla and move with him. What would she do all day?
Before she knew it, Mont had swiped her pages. She made a grab for them, but the man had impossibly long arms. He scanned the page—her list of things she needed to take care of before they moved to Spain for the next ten months.
Then he pinned Sophie with a dangerous look. “I have an idea that isn’t on your paper.”
With Mont, she’d learned that life wasn’t always neat and couldn’t always be contained on a numbered list. “Go ahead.”
He tossed her pile of papers aside and let several seconds of silence go by. “How about you marry me?” He kept his eyes glued to hers. “Then you can have a huge budget, sit by the river all day, and when filming is over, we can come back to Redwood Bay.”
Sophie took her papers and shuffled them together, her heart racing. “You’re asking me to marry you?” Why was her voice so high? She loved Mont, and during the forty-eight hours she’d been hiding, she’d realized she’d sell her taco stand ten times over to be with him. But marriage? Was he serious? She’d known him for three months. How could he possibly be ready to marry her? It had taken Clint two years to propose.
You’ve really got to stop comparing him to Clint.
Mont gently slid the pages away from her. He crumpled them up one by one. “We don’t need a plan. We just need each other.”
Her heart melted, even though he’d destroyed her lists.
When he got up and knelt beside her again, she might as well have been a puddle. “Sophie, will you marry me?”
She looked into his blue eyes, shining with love and hope. “Yes,” she whispered, letting go of all her fears, her lists and her comparisons.
His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “Awesome. Because I want to marry you too.” He kissed her, slow and steady, until she thought she might explode.
“How about a Christmas wedding?” he asked, and Sophie seized.
“Mont, Christmas is in like, seven weeks.”
His brows furrowed. “Yeah. So?”
Panic welled in Sophie’s chest. “Do you know what it takes to plan and execute a wedding?”
He chuckled and kissed her again. “It takes a marriage license and a clergyman, Soph.”
As Sophie received another kiss, she realized he was right. She needed very little to get married.
In fact, she only needed Mont.
OK, and the perfect dress.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sophie awoke on her wedding day, the sun barely filtering through her gauzy drapes, with a smile on her face. Never mind she’d only been back in Redwood Bay for two days, and had no idea where the ceremony was taking place or what her hair would look like.
The smile vanished. She’d been begging Mont for weeks to tell her all the details, but he’d steadfastly refused. After his proposal at the diner, they’d gone to Joe’s on Main Street to buy a ring. Mont proposed again, this time at the lighthouse, on one knee, with the diamond in hand.
She’d said yes again, but this proposal came with a condition. When she protested, he reminded her she had given him conditions when telling him about her life. She hated the person she’d been then, so closed off, so resistant to having someone in her life who loved her.
She’d agreed that he could plan the whole wedding. Location, flowers, dress, everything. The only thing he’d allowed her to help with was picking the date.
She got up and checked her phone, finding four texts from Lucy.
I’ll be there in half an hour.
You haven’t seen Mont, have you?
You better not let him see you before the wedding!
I have your dress and Lila is here to do your hair. This is going to be amazing!
Sophie smiled as she pecked out a text to Lucy. Haven’t seen Mont. About to see if his parents are awake.
Mont had taken Sophie to Kansas last week to meet his parents. They’d flown back to Redwood Bay together, and his parents had been staying in Sophie’s spare bedroom. They were easy company, because his father never went anywhere. Sophie knew Mont was worried about how his dad would handle the festivities, but just as quickly as the worry would come, he’d smooth it away with a smile and a kiss.
Sophie padded to the bay window in her bedroom and focused out the window. The ocean looked calm, the white-capped waves small as they rolled in. Old anxiety crept up as she wondered if Mont was really ready to marry her. She pushed it away, reminding herself that she didn’t have anything to prove. She had chosen Mont, and he had chosen her.
Your flowers are gorgeous, Polly texted. It’s your wedding day, cousin! It warmed Sophie’s heart that Mont knew all the right things to do—things she would’ve done for her wedding.
 
; She went into the kitchen, where she found Mont’s mother brewing coffee. Sophie drew a deep breath, imagining the sight of Mont’s bronzed upper half as she did. Oh, how she loved the smell of coffee.
“Morning,” she said.
“Good morning, dear.” His mother beamed at her. Apparently Sophie could do no wrong now that she’d decided to marry Mont. It seemed his mother had given up on him marrying—at least anyone decent—when he’d left for LA.
Sophie hid her smile as she pictured Mont rolling his eyes and imitating his mother’s voice when she’d expressed his concerns about his love life.
“Francis—oops, I mean Montgomery—is coming to get us in an hour,” his mom said. Hearing her use the wrong name still tripped Sophie up, but she smiled.
“I know. I’m leaving in about ten minutes. He won’t see me.” She gave his mom an easy peck on the cheek as she went to get her makeup. Having his parents in her life had been a welcome addition to an empty spot she’d tried desperately to fill with pork carnitas. They weren’t staying long, and Mont and Sophie would be off to Spain tomorrow morning.
Still, Sophie turned back, her heart warming again as she watched Mont’s mother sip her coffee and read the newspaper on the tablet Mont had bought for her.
Lucy bustled Sophie into Lila’s salon, where no less than five women waited to primp her into the bride of the century. Makeup, hair, nails, dress. Sophie was ready in forty-five minutes flat and herded back to Lucy’s car.
“Blaine is walking you down the aisle,” she said. “That’s the only detail I’m allowed to share, so don’t ask me anything.” Lucy gripped the wheel at ten and two like she was escorting the President. “Polly put your bouquet in the backseat. You can have it when we arrive.”
“Wow, Mont’s really got his dogs on a short leash,” Sophie commented, looking out the window.
Lucy glanced at her. “He’s mad for you,” she said. “You should’ve seen him planning this. ‘It has to be perfect. Nothing but the best for Soph.’ Seriously, Sophie.” She cut her another look. “You know he’s crazy about you, right?”
“Yes,” Sophie said, but it was nice to hear. Despite everything, Sophie still suffered from an occasional bout of insecurity. It always fled when Mont looked at her, quirked that smile that liquefied her insides, kissed her.
Surprisingly, Lucy pulled into the parking lot where Sophie parked everyday to go to work. She opened her mouth to ask, but then saw the trellis set up on the beach, just fifty feet from The Sandy Tortilla. A twist pulled at her stomach, but she refused to allow herself to spiral into longing for her old life. She had a brand new adventure ahead of her—with the man she loved.
Lucy helped her out of the car, adjusted her train, gave her the bouquet, and walked with her down to the beach. “I’m so happy for you, honey.” Lucy hugged her and passed her off to Blaine, who waited next to the door of the taco stand.
Polly and Tripp, her mom and Jared, and Mont’s parents sat in the front row of folding chairs. The rest were filled with townspeople Sophie had known her whole life. The wedding march began, and Blaine pressed a kiss to her temple. “You ready, Soph?”
“Thank you, Blaine,” Sophie said, suddenly tearful. “I-I know you and Lucy meant well, and I might not….” She glanced down the aisle, where the most perfect man waited. “Well, I might still be serving tacos if you hadn’t intruded.”
Blaine smiled, the tender big-brother smile she was so used to. “I need to thank you for meddling in my life too. Lucy has moons in her eyes over this wedding. I think if I asked her again, she might say yes this time.”
Sophie sincerely hoped so. She’d like nothing better than to see her two best friends get married.
Blaine stepped, and Sophie went with him. She kept her eyes on Mont, who didn’t look away from her either. Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back. A love so fierce burned through her, and she saw the same emotion flowing in his expression. It seemed impossible that this man loved her, but she felt it deep in her core that he did.
Before she knew it, Blaine passed her arm over to Mont’s, who squeezed her against his side.
“Do you like the dress?” she asked, running her fingers over the little pearls that had been sewn into the fabric.
“You know what I want to do with it,” he murmured, running his hands down her arms and sliding his fingers between hers.
Sophie smiled as the heat warmed her face. Mont kissed her left cheek, then her right. “Pretty girl,” he whispered. The minister spoke, the breeze picked up, and Mont said, “Yes, absolutely,” to confirm he wanted to marry Sophie.
She gave her pledge to him, and then she did what she always longed to do: Kiss Montgomery Winters.
“This is where we first met,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers as their guests clapped and cheered.
“The exact spot?”
“I can keep track of details too,” he responded.
Sophie threw her head back and laughed. She had never been happier than she was in that moment.
“Are you ready for your gift?” he asked, nodding at Blaine and Lucy, who hurried down the aisle together.
She glanced behind her, where everyone stood waiting. “Right here?”
He fumbled for something in his pocket, his expression revealing his nerves. He took the tiniest step away from her so she could see what he held between his fingers. “I believe this belongs to you.”
She stared at the small, brass key, her eyes widening. Her chest rose and fell, and then she grabbed the key from him to examine it more closely. She looked at him again, nearly losing herself in the blueness of his eyes.
“Is this what I think it is?” Her voice barely crossed the space between them.
“If you think that’s the key to The Sandy Tortilla, then yes.”
She glanced back the way she’d come. Blaine opened the door to the taco stand, and a dozen live doves exploded out in a flurry of beating, white wings. The small crowd oohed, and when Sophie turned back to Mont, she had tears in her eyes.
“Mont—”
“I am not worth a taco stand,” he said. “But I will try to make you happy every single day, whether we’re in Spain shooting a movie or here in Redwood Bay serving burritos.”
She stretched up to kiss him, certain she’d found her happily ever after, just like the women in the movies.
THE END
Elana Johnson, Until Summer Ends
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