Chapter 72 The Question on the Water
Jordan Ellis had known for months that he wanted to ask Rowie Harper to marry him.
He’d known since the night she came home from a tough road loss, dropped her bag in the foyer, and curled into his arms on the couch without a word—trusting him to hold her silence until she was ready to speak.
He’d known since the morning she scored her first pro hat trick and skated straight to him in the family lounge, eyes shining, whispering “I did it” like he was the only person in the world she needed to tell.
He’d known since the quiet evenings on their balcony overlooking the Charles, her head on his shoulder, the city lights reflecting in her eyes while they talked about everything and nothing.
But knowing and doing were different.
Jordan wanted it perfect—not flashy, not public, but perfect for Rowie.
He thought about the ice: center rink at the Fleet arena after a game, or the backyard in Evergreen Hollow under the string lights.
But Rowie had once told him, early in their dating, that the water felt sacred to her when she watched him row at dawn. “It’s like you’re part of something bigger,” she’d said. “Peaceful. Strong.”
So he chose the water.
Late September, the night before her birthday.
Jordan rented a double scull from his old club on the Charles—the same calm stretch where he’d taken her for her first row years ago. He packed a picnic: her favorite sandwiches from the deli near the arena, chocolate for dessert, a bottle of sparkling cider because she had a game the next night.
He told her only that he had a surprise birthday eve plan.
She showed up at the dock in jeans and his old rowing hoodie, hair in a messy bun, eyes curious.
They pushed off just as the sun began to set, the city glowing gold behind them.
Jordan stroked from the stern, Rowie in bow—her form better now after years of his gentle coaching. They moved in sync across the glass-smooth water, breath steady, the only sound the soft dip of blades and the gentle lap against the hull.
Halfway across, Jordan shipped the oars and let the boat drift.
Rowie turned, smiling. “This is perfect already.”
He moved carefully to her seat, the boat rocking gently. From his jacket pocket he pulled a small lantern—battery-powered, soft glow—and set it between them.
Then the ring box.
Rowie’s eyes widened.
Jordan took her hands, heart pounding harder than any race finish.
“Rowie Harper,” he began, voice steady even as emotion thickened it, “you skated into my life five years ago and changed everything. You taught me that love can be fierce like a championship overtime and gentle like a quiet row at dawn. You make me braver, kinder, better.”
Tears were already shining in her eyes.
“I’ve loved watching you become the incredible woman you are—on the ice, off it, with your family, with our friends, with me. I love the way you laugh at my terrible jokes, the way you fight for what’s right, the way you still tap your heart before every faceoff.”
He opened the box—a simple solitaire set in rose gold, chosen because it reminded him of sunrise on the water.
“I want forever with you,” he said, voice breaking now. “Every morning row, every game night, every quiet Tuesday, every big dream and small moment. I want to build a life with you—kids someday if we’re lucky, dogs definitely, a home full of love like the one you grew up in.”
Tears slipped down Rowie’s cheeks.
“Rowie Holly Harper,” he whispered, “will you marry me?”
She didn’t speak at first—just nodded through tears, then launched herself at him carefully so the boat only rocked a little.
“Yes,” she laughed, crying. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”
He slid the ring on her finger—perfect fit, like everything about them.
They kissed slow and deep, the lantern glowing soft between them, snowflakes starting to fall as if the sky itself was celebrating.
The boat drifted for a long time, neither in a hurry to row back.
When they finally returned to the dock, hands linked, faces flushed with cold and joy, Rowie looked at him under the dock lights.
“Best birthday eve ever.”
Jordan smiled, pulling her close. “Best day of my life so far.”
They didn’t tell anyone that night.
Just went home, made love with the windows open to the snow, whispering plans and promises until sleep took them.
The next morning—Rowie’s actual birthday—they flew to Evergreen Hollow for a long weekend.
The family was waiting: Lily and Nathan, Everett and Elise with the kids, Clara and Alex with theirs, Rowan and Holly on the porch with cocoa ready.
Rowie and Jordan walked in hand in hand.
Rowie held up her left hand.
The ring caught the light.
Silence for one heartbeat.
Then Holly’s gasp, tears instant. Rowan’s eyes shining. Everett’s whoop. Clara’s scream. The grandchildren piling on with questions and hugs.
Hugs lasted forever—tears, laughter, joy overflowing.
Holly held Rowie tight. “My granddaughter’s getting married.”
Rowan pulled Jordan into a hug. “Welcome to the family, son.”
They celebrated all weekend: backyard barbecue, skating on the rink, stories around the fire.
Planning came gently: summer wedding by the pond, small and intimate.
But the heart of it was already there—in the quiet certainty of two people who’d found their perfect match, steady and strong, ready for whatever came next.
In Evergreen Hollow and Boston both, under skies full of promise, Rowie and Jordan began the next chapter—engaged, in love, and perfectly, beautifully ready.
The ice and the water waited.
And together, they’d row and skate every mile.