Neither used it anymore.
Maeve refused to remove it.
Callaway asked why.
She said, “Because I enjoy looking at the thing you tortured yourself on for months.”
“I was being respectful.”
“You were being foolish.”
“Both can be true.”
“That may be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.”
By late summer, rumors reached Red Hollow that Maeve and Callaway would marry.
Maeve ignored them.
Callaway ignored them more obviously.
Then one evening they sat on the porch watching lightning far beyond the mountains.
Callaway reached into his pocket.
Maeve saw the movement.
“No.”
He froze.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You are holding a ring.”
He looked offended.
“How do you know?”
“Because men become suspiciously silent before producing jewelry.”
“I am often silent.”
“Not like that.”
Callaway sighed.
Then removed the ring.
It was simple silver with a tiny green stone.
Maeve stared.
“My mother’s,” he said.
Her expression softened.
Callaway did not kneel.
Maeve appreciated that.
He held the ring in his palm.
“I don’t want your land.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want control of your money.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need you to cook.”
“You absolutely do.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
Maeve waited.
Callaway looked more nervous than she had ever seen him, including when facing armed men.
“I want you.”
Her throat tightened.
He continued.
“I want arguments about coffee. I want you correcting every contract I think I understand. I want you yelling from the barn because I bought the wrong nails.”
“You did buy the wrong nails.”
“I know.”
Maeve smiled through tears.
“I want the bed to remain ours because you choose it.”
Her smile faded into something deeper.
“And if someday you don’t choose me anymore, I want you to know the house, your money, your land, and your life remain yours.”
Maeve stared at him.
Callaway swallowed.
“Will you marry me?”
Maeve did not answer immediately.
Callaway waited.
That mattered.
He did not fill the silence.
Did not persuade.
Did not remind her what they had survived.
He simply waited.
Maeve looked at the ring.
Then at the valley.
Then at the man who had made one enormous mistake by hiding the truth because he feared taking something from her.
A man who had spent every day since learning that choice mattered more when it was difficult.
Maeve held out her hand.
“Yes.”
Callaway exhaled.
“But.”
His eyes narrowed.
“There’s a but?”
“There is always a but.”
“Of course.”
“The cot stays.”
He stared.
“Why?”
“Historical significance.”
Callaway groaned.
Maeve laughed.
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
Then asked, quietly, “May I?”
She knew what he meant.
Maeve leaned closer.
“Yes.”
He kissed her beneath a sky full of distant lightning.
They married in September.