Orange.

I see orange.

And it looks like happiness to me. Like all my favorite memories and everything I want for my future.

Her back is to me, and she holds a shoe drawer, showing it to Lila. “And then you use this on the middle shelf and it helps sort all your shoes,” Natalie says, and her voice fills me with hope.

I hope I haven’t lost her. I hope I can pull this off. I hope she doesn’t think I’m crazy.

Lila meets my eyes, her own lighting up, but she quickly schools her expression. Natalie must sense I’m here, though, because she spins around in a heartbeat, obviously surprised.

And I stop thinking, and hoping, and wondering. I just do.

I walk up to her and speak from the heart. It’s not rocket science to tell her she’s the one. “I should have done a lot of things differently, Nat. I should have told you I love you first. Because I do. I love you like crazy, and maybe sometimes it makes me crazy.” One corner of her lips quirks up, as if she’s trying to rein in a smile. “I shouldn’t have filed for the annulment today. I shouldn’t have been a dick to you on the steps outside the courthouse when you were simply doing the most ridiculous thing I ever asked you to do. And most of all, I should never have asked you to keep such an unfair promise the night we married.”

“It’s okay, Wyatt,” she says, and her voice is feathery soft. “I kept it because it mattered to you.”

I shake my head, pissed at myself again, but even more in love with this woman. Lila takes a few steps back, giving us space as I continue, “I barely remembered our ceremony, let alone all those things I said to you. And that’s no excuse, but it is true. I remember them now because I went back to the chapel this afternoon, and that song was playing. Can’t Help Falling in Love. I know I felt it that night, and I feel it a million times more now.” She moves closer to me, and that emboldens me. So does the expression on her face—soft and caring, then the words she mouths. Me, too. I want to kiss her, but I have so much more to say. “I’m not drunk now. I’m completely stone-cold sober, and I’m asking you for a second chance. I’m wildly, madly, insanely in love with you, and I brought this picture to remind you of how amazing we are together.”

Her eyes twinkle as I hand her the photo. “No, you didn’t bring my O face,” she says, mad, but not mad. She’s playful again, and I love that tone in her voice.

I can’t help but grin. “It’s much more than your O face, sweetheart. This,” I say, pointing to the picture in the cardboard frame. “This is you and me. This is how we are together. I brought this to remind you that this is where we started. That night. On that ride. And I want this to be us.” Her lips quiver, and her eyes shine with the start of tears. “I want us to keep riding the rollercoaster. To get on it over and over again. To keep climbing, and falling, and flipping upside-down, even if it makes us sick or crazy. I want to feel all the joy and exhilaration with you. The ups and downs. Because loving you is some kind of wild ride, and I don’t want it to stop.”

She presses her hands to my chest, gathering the fabric of my shirt. Her voice is laced with emotion, and she’s on the edge of tears. “Wyatt, I only pushed the annulment because I promised I would. I did it because I love you. Because I thought you wanted it. Because I know how much promises matter to you. That’s why I was crying in the hotel room earlier. Because I knew I had to do it, but I didn’t want to. And I do love you. I love you so much that I can’t stay mad.”

I run my hand down her bare arm, unable to resist touching her. Gooseflesh rises in my wake. I breathe a sigh of relief. “But I need to confess something. Before we left your room this morning, I saw that law firm name flash on your screen. The one who sent your letter later on.”

Her gaze turns quizzical. “You did?”

I nod, take a gulp, and come clean. “I freaked out and thought it meant something else. Something bad. And that’s why I was such a dick at the courthouse. But then I realized how ridiculous that was well before you even sent your email. Only this time, I didn’t need to see the homeless guy eat the sandwich to know it was safe. Because I know you, and I know your heart. I just hope I haven’t messed things up too badly because of how cold I was.”

Her grip on my shirt tightens. Her gaze is fierce and loving. “You haven’t. Not at all. I swear.” Then she says, with a playful cackle, “But I fully intend to prank you with a sandwich someday.”

I laugh lightly. “You better. But even if I screwed things up a little, I want to make them a lot right. Because this can be us.” I tap the photo one more time. “And we can be this couple, too,” I say, drawing a fueling breath as I reach into the bag from the drugstore and take out a framed photo of two gibbons swinging on a branch in a tree.

She laughs. “You want us to be . . . gibbons?”

I reach for her hand. “Nat, did you know gibbons are one of the few animals who mate for life?”

“Along with termites, beavers, and swans,” she adds, with a happy shrug. “I looked it up. It seemed like something you’d enjoy knowing.”

My heart does a wild dance—because she wanted to know, and she wanted to share. “I said I was asking for a second chance, and I meant it,” I say, my gaze holding hers. “But not just a dating chance. Not just a let’s-go-to-dinner chance. I’m not betting a five-dollar chip on red.”