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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.
    “They think you won’t.”
    I shake my head. “I want him to be punished for what he did to me. Of course I will.”
    “Oh, I know that, but Noreen is making sure that no one knows anything about you. It’s kinda spooky how much she is hidin’,” she says with a nod. “Good, though. She