Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
There are more balloons. There’s a cake.
There’s even a handwritten sign taped to the ladder truck that says NO MORE ALMOSTS.
I stare at it.
“You didn’t tell them that,” I say quietly.
Levi glances at the sign and then back at me. “I didn’t have to.”
Mrs. Dottie claps her hands dramatically. “Speech!”
“No,” Levi and I say in unison.
“Speech!” the crew chants anyway.
Levi sighs and steps forward slightly, still keeping one hand anchored at my waist like he’s afraid I’ll float off.
“I spent five thousand dollars,” he says dryly. “You’re all getting your money’s worth.”
Laughter erupts. He looks at me for half a second before addressing the room again.
“I should’ve done this years ago,” he adds simply.
He pulls me forward gently.
“Sadie deserves someone who shows up,” he says.
The words settle over the crowd. My throat tightens.
“And I’m not leaving,” he finishes.
The applause is louder this time and I lean into him without thinking.
Mrs. Dottie fans herself dramatically. “Oh, I love a second chance romance, you two are a fairytale.”
The church ladies begin passing out cupcakes like communion. Tyler sidles up to me with frosting already on his chin.
“So,” he says conspiratorially, “you’re really going through with it?”
I lift my hand again, admiring the way the diamond catches the firehouse lights. “Looks that way.”
He whistles. “Lieutenant went nuclear.”
“Careful,” Levi says from behind me.
Tyler grins. “See? Territorial.”
Levi’s arm slides more firmly around my waist.
“Observant,” he corrects.
I tilt my head back slightly to look at him.
“You’re enjoying this,” I murmur.
He lowers his mouth closer to my ear. “I’m enjoying that you’re still here.”
The bass from the speakers vibrates through the concrete floor. Someone drags out folding tables. Someone else starts pouring sparkling cider like this is a wedding reception preview.
Mrs. Dottie corners me with a clipboard.
“We’ll need color palettes,” she announces.
“Color palettes?” I repeat.
“For the ceremony, darling.”
“Mrs. Dottie—”
She leans closer. “You think we’re not hosting this at the firehouse?”
I glance around at the decorated engine bays. She’s absolutely serious. Levi appears beside me again, like he has a radar for church lady ambushes.
“She doesn’t need a committee,” he says calmly.
Mrs. Dottie narrows her eyes. “Every bride needs a committee.”
“I don’t,” I protest.
“You will,” she insists.
Levi leans down slightly, lips brushing my ear. “You want to elope instead?”
The suggestion sends a dangerous thrill through me.
“And rob Mrs. Dottie of her moment?” I whisper back.
He smirks. The crew begins chanting something about bachelor parties. My dad pretends not to hear it. I find myself laughing more than I have in weeks. The tension from the gala, the bidding, the hallway—all of it dissolves into something lighter here. Safer. But not less intense.
Levi’s thumb traces slow circles at my hip while we stand there, subtle enough no one comments.
“You’re still my sexy little hotshot,” he murmurs quietly.
The nickname hits me in the chest.
I grin up at him. “And you’re still playing with fire.”
He doesn’t deny it.
The crowd continues around us—music, laughter, clinking glasses—but the space between us sharpens.
“You nervous?” he asks.
“Terrified.”
“Good.”
“That’s reassuring.”
He tilts his head slightly. “You think I’d kneel if I wasn’t sure?”
“I think you’d do a lot of reckless things.”
His mouth curves faintly. “Not this.”
The certainty in his tone steadies me. I look around at the decorated firehouse. At the crew who raised him. At the church ladies who meddled us into existence. At my dad pretending not to wipe at his eyes.
“This is insane,” I say softly.
“Yeah.”
“And loud.”
“Very.”
“And public.”
“Always.”
I study him carefully. “You don’t regret it?”
He meets my gaze evenly. “Not once.”
The music shifts to something slower.
Sawyer shouts, “First dance!”
I laugh nervously. “We are not dancing in the engine bay.”
Levi’s grip tightens slightly. “Why not?”
“Because this is chaotic.”
“So are we.”
He pulls me gently toward the center of the bay before I can protest again. The crew forms a loose circle around us. Mrs. Dottie sighs like she’s witnessing cinematic history. Levi places one hand at my waist, the other lifting mine lightly. His eyes don’t leave my face.
“This feels familiar,” I whisper.
“It is.”
The music hums low and steady. He moves us slowly, not fancy, not choreographed. Just close.
“Still think I’m arrogant?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Still think I don’t fight?”
I hesitate. “No.”
His thumb presses lightly into my hip. “Good.”
The firehouse lights glow overhead. The engines stand silent behind us like witnesses.
“You’re not backing out,” I murmur.
“Try and stop me.”
I smirk faintly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re smiling.”
I am. Because for the first time, this doesn’t feel like a game. It doesn’t feel like we’re performing for a KissCam or outbidding firefighters for ego.
It feels solid.
The music fades and the cheering swells again. Levi doesn’t let go. Not when the cupcakes get passed around. Not when someone sprays champagne in the corner. Not when Mrs. Dottie loudly announces she’s already booked a florist. He stays right there, hand at my waist, fingers laced with mine.
And this time—when he leans down and kisses me in front of the entire firehouse—neither of us pulls away.