"Dickson Falls again?" I ask, frowning as I step out of Warren's truck and onto the gravel.

"Yeah," Warren shrugs from the driver's seat. "Remember how we found most of the geocaches last time we were here? Well, last night, at the hotel, I was searching to see what parks would be best to scope out and I saw there were like four or five new ones that have been planted. There's also one we didn't find. I figured we'd find them and then head to a different park." He pauses and looks at me across the console. "Unless you want to do something else?"

I contemplate what he's proposed. Warren's still somewhat new to this geocaching concept – I don't think he understands that some people sometimes remove their geocaches due to problems with the coordinates or sometimes nature itself is responsible for never being able to find it. As for the new ones, there have been situations where people have simply updated the coordinates or contents and caused the app to mark it as a newly placed geocache. But if it means being able to spend more time with him, then so be it.

Julia and East would call me crazy for wanting to spend more time with Warren after the long drive from Vancouver. Instead of flying, this time we decided it would be a great experience to drive across Canada to get to Halifax. From the beginning, it was his idea to do so. I, for the record, thought he was insane. Until he pointed out that we could stop in Alberta and see my family before we go to see his. He also made an impressive argument about the amount of geocaching we could do at different parks, and about how many different types of food we could try.

I eventually caved.

"Okay," I smile, gathering my backpack from the backseat. "Then let's do this."

Warren grins at me, and then gets out of the driver's seat. "Awesome," he says. "Just gimme a sec to change my shoes and we'll be good to go."

I'm leaning against the tailgate when he finally comes bounding around, water bottle in hand and backpack ready to go. I tried to convince him that sharing a backpack would be a better way to carry things, but he disagreed and insisted that he carry the geocaching stuff (useless trinkets we bought from the dollar store, extra pieces of log paper, pens and pencils, and a solar charger for our phones in case they end up dying because of the app) and I carry the food (sandwiches and lemonades we bought from the nearest market).

"Damn, baby," he grins, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in for a kiss. "You look hot in those sunglasses."

"I'm glad you think so," I joke, nudging him in the ribs. "Now let's get going before it gets too hot to move."

He laughs at my comment. "Better than freezing my ass off like I did back in December. I swear to God, Novs, I am never evergoing back to Alberta during the winter."

I smile as I think about how we spent his birthday and Christmas. I had been a little scared that our families would end up disliking each other, but things turned out better than I expected. Mom and Karen talk to each other on a regular basis, sometimes dragging me into their calls and asking when the wedding is. I always think they're joking when they ask me that, but Hazel reminds me every time I mention the awkward conversations to her that both our moms are cheering for Warren and I. And then I end up averting the conversation to her daughter, Cassie Grace Williams, and how she's doing.

Warren and I still haven't met Hazel and Greyson's daughter yet, and university is the reason behind all the delays. Especially Warren's volleyball team. They made it to provincials this year and won the championship title. There was a lot of travelling involved, along with me helping him keep up with homework for exams. It was a stressful period of time for both of us, but we managed.

To my left, Warren reaches out and grabs my hand. To be completely honest, I'm still getting used to him being all mine. After the wedding, everyone on campus was shocked that I had claimed Warren Ashford as my boyfriend. Some girls, of course, showed extreme hatred toward me. It was hard to push past the fact that he'd slept with them in the past, and it would be a lie if I said it didn't scare me a little. All he's done is prove me wrong, though, and I now trust him more than ever. He barely even glances in another girl's direction when we're in the hallway. On top of that, he shuts down a conversation if there's any hint of flirting.

Warren smiles at me and then begins to hum a tune I'm not familiar with, which is odd because he's the one who has been playing the music for the day. Or he normally hums along to the one song I can never get out of my head: On Again by Honors and Molly Kate Kestner. Ever since our drunken exploit, I've taken a certain liking to the song. Don't ask me why.

As we walk down the boardwalk, amongst the damp trees and cooler temperature, I look at Warren. He's been acting weird all day. Like he's overly happy. If I were with anyone else, I would think he's maybe smoked something. But this is Warren we're talking about – there's no way in hell he would risk his scholarship with the university. Don't get me wrong – I'm happy he's happy. He's just...overdoing it a little. Seriously. He hasn't stopped smiling since he saw the sign for Dickson Falls. I thought maybe it was because he had some dirty jokes to tell me based on the name of this place. He never said one word that addressed that, though.

Perhaps I'm overthinking everything. Maybe he's just excited to be back on the East Coast to see his family and meet his niece for the first time. He tends to mellow out when we're on the East Coast. There must be something in the saltwater air.

So I shake those thoughts away and focus on what's happening right now. It turns out that this hike is completely different than the first one we went on together. The first time, we were still going at each other's throats. This time, we're happy as happy can be; holding hands, stopping to take selfies every once in a while, and even just stopping to kiss for no apparent reason. Not that I'm complaining – his kisses are fantastic.

"You know what?" I ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

"What?"

"I think this was a great idea. We're making new memories, right? If I do recall, we weren't on the best terms when we first came here."

He chuckles. "Oh, Novs. I know what you mean. I only agreed to come hiking with you because I had wanted to avoid discussing wedding shit with my sister."

"You and me both," I sigh. "I was so nervous about meeting your family. Which I find to be somewhat funny because I technically wasn't your girlfriend."

Warren wraps an arm around my shoulders. "No need to explain, baby – I totally understand."

When we come to a familiar section of the mossy boardwalk, we hop over the railing and get to work: both of us pull out our phones, type in our location, and then begin to scour the area for both new geocaches and the one we couldn't find.

"You know," Warren says as we search. "This really does make us look like lunatics, but I like it. And I'm happy I'm not a Muggle anymore. Remember that?"

My cheeks burn a little. "Of course I do. And I had every right to call you that because you were a total Muggle. You asked me, and I quote directly from your mouth, 'What the fuck is geocaching?'"

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I did."

We spend the next couple hours searching, sweating, and writing our names down on the logs that are inside the camouflaged containers. At one point, we stop to eat our food and gaze out at the view of the waterfall. While doing that, we just talk and laugh about everything that's happened since this time last year. Julia was able to cancel my request and make sure we stayed roommates for however long we want. Which might not be much longer with the way this conversation is going.

From his backpack, Warren pulls out a few papers and spreads them across the rock surface in front of us. I almost choke on my lemonade.

"Warren!" I exclaim. "I thought we were going to look at housing arrangements after our vacation."

"I know," he shrugs. "But I found these ones and I couldn't wait any longer."

Feeling excited, I start inspecting each sheet, carefully examining every last detail about the apartments he's found.

"So?" he asks after I've gone through all of them. "Which one do you like best?" He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, we could look for others. Whatever you want."

In order to shut him up, I lean in and kiss him. He kisses me back instantly, like he was expecting me to do that.

When my lungs are screaming for air, I pull back to catch my breath. I don't have to look up to know he has a certain shit-eating grin on his face because it happens every time he causes me to become breathless.

"Warren," I say, taking his face in my hands. "What did I tell you before we left Halifax?"

He shrugs even though he knows what I'm talking about – he really just wants to hear me repeat it.

"I said I'm good with anything as long as I'm with you. And that applies to everything." I gesture to the papers. "So I don't care where we live, as long as we're together."

Smiling, he looks up at the summer sky and says, "Okay. Then we'll figure out the rest when we get back to Vancouver."

"Sounds good," I say, getting to my feet. "Now that we're done with that until then, why don't we finish of this hiking-slash-geocaching adventure so we can go out for a nice dinner?"

Warren grins wickedly, and then runs a hand up my inner thigh. "So we're referring to it as dinner now?" he drawls, winking at me. "Thought it was always dessert."

My mouth drops open and I punch him in the arm. "Warren Cameron Ashford!" I exclaim, looking around the decently busy trail. "You can't say that kind of stuff when there are younger families around. My God."

As usual, he just laughs. "Suit yourself, baby." He reaches out and grabs my hand, then starts tugging me back to the trail. "Let's find that pesky geocache and then get the hell outta here."

Without any hesitation, I follow him back to the spot where I veered off the trail the first time we were here.

* * *

"Warren," I say, "the app says it's this way – not to the east like you're going."

We've been searching for the stupid geocache for the past half hour now, and I've almost fully convinced myself that it's been removed from the site. We've inspected everything – the hint, the pictures, recent logs, et cetera. But we've come up short.

For the past ten minutes, he's been trying to get me to follow him over to the rock face that's covered in small holes. He keeps saying there are too many for him to search on his own and that he needs my help. What he's doing makes no sense and is, frankly, a waste of time. He's looking in the opposite direction of what the app says.

"Novs," he says, pointing to the side that's closest to the damp wood railing, "please just look in that area while I check this side out. You and I both know that the app can be off with its coordinates sometimes. Maybe this is one of those annoyingly inconvenient times where that's happened."

I sigh and mentally scold myself. What he's saying makes sense. There have been situations where the geocache has been misplaced and found in a different location. "Fine," I say, heading over to the place he pointed at. "I'll do it. But you should know that if you're wrong and I'm wasting my time for no good reason – "

"Yeah, yeah," he laughs. "Don't worry, baby. I know how to get on your good side again." With those words, he makes an inappropriate gesture to the lower half of his body.

My cheeks flare a deep pink, and I turn around to search. For a boyfriend, Warren can sure be an ass. I suppose that's one of the many things I like about him – he acts like an ass, but he's just joking around. I love his smartass comments he always has tucked up under his sleeve.

Some time passes as I peek into the little holes that dot the rock face, and I begin to get frustrated. I told him this was pointless. Yes, the apps are sometimes off, but usually only by a few metres or so. Not what feels like kilometres!

"Warren, I told you this was a ridicu –" I stop mid-sentence because I catch a flash of camo duct tape glint beneath the sunshine.

"What was that?" he calls from across the clearing.

"Nothing," I mutter, reaching for the small pill bottle. With a little more volume in my voice, I say, "I found it."

"Great!" he shouts. "I'll get the pen and stuff while you open it and grab the log book so we can write our names in it."

So that's what we do. With the noise of zippers being unzipped and pens clacking against each other in the distance, I pop open the lid and start looking for the small pad of notepaper that should be inside.

Only...it's not there.

I frown to myself and decide to dump the contents into the palm of my hand. Perhaps the piece of paper has lodged its way in there and just needs an extra force. With one quick jab, I slam the upside down pill bottle into the palm of my hand.

Surprisingly, my plan works.

It's just...it's not a scrunched pad of paper that falls into my hand. Instead, it's something hard and cool.

Stunned, I remove the pill bottle to see what this mystery item is.

And it takes everything inside of me to not burst out bawling when I see what exactly is lying in the palm of my hand.

It's an engagement ring that sparkles under the sunlight. With my eyes now completely focused on the diamond ring, I drop the taped pill bottle so I can clutch the ring with both hands. I'm scared I'm going to drop it if I don't hold onto it with dear life.

The more I study the engagement ring, the stronger the feeling of shock becomes. It's a Tiffany & Co. ring. The classic style. Simple and elegant and sparkly, and everything I've ever dreamt of.

"So," Warren says from behind me. "I told you I was going to do this right. Us Ashfords tend to go for the more dramatic and memorable plays."

The tears start to slide down my cheeks before I can fully turn around.

When I'm facing him, his name is all I can say before I choke.