Chapter 7. Make Me Your Bride?

Evelyn

“You know, Evelyn… you’re the only woman I’ve ever met who complains about shopping too much,” Jacob chuckled, his deep voice resonating with amusement as we strolled down the pavement hand-in-hand.

I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. After a marathon of “extra shopping” we’d stuffed the car’s backseat with bags and parked nearby for a walk—because I insisted, of course.

As we wandered through the peaceful evening, enjoying the crisp air and easy conversation, my eyes suddenly caught sight of a street-side ice cream shop. I stopped mid-step, my gaze locking onto the neon-lit counter like a moth to a flame.

Jacob noticed immediately. “You want ice cream?” he asked, already grinning.

“Yes, please!” I chirped, tugging him toward the shop.

When we reached the counter, Jacob, knowing me better than anyone, placed the order without hesitation. “One cookies and cream, please.”

“And,” I added, “a mint chocol