CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Polly awoke from a night of exquisite dreams, happier than she had ever been. She had been riding on cloud nine ever since Sam had proposed to her the night before. She had been secretly, deep down, hoping that he would, especially on Caitlin and Caleb’s wedding night. She knew that she had no real reason to expect this, given that they had barely been together a few days—and yet somehow, deep down, she still hoped for it anyway. She had never loved anyone as much as Sam, and she’d wanted him to propose to her more than anything.

Polly had gone to bed ecstatic and had dreamt all night long that she and Sam had been walking through a field of white flowers, white rose petals showering all around them, as the sun never seemed to set. She saw the two of them walking into the white light, and she awoke with the most peaceful feeling of her life, feeling so relaxed and content. She’d had the strangest, fleeting thought, that, given how happy and content she was, she’d be perfectly happy to