“I realize this is the worst time to ask this,” he rasped, moving his face until he was using my feet as a cushion, “but I need you to marry me. You keep saying no, but I want you to have the same last name as Santana and me.
“I want the piece of paper that legally ties us together. I don’t know why it’s so important, but it feels more painful than the pain your Christmas dinner is giving me in my gut.”
I wanted that, too. “Yes.”
“I know it’s stupid,” he continued, pulling himself up until he was on his knees with his head on my stomach, “but not to me, it isn’t. Our lives have always been side by side and interwoven together, and I want to finally see you write Bexley Richards when you sign something. I want to see my ring on your finger and look down at work to see I’m wearing yours—”
“I said yes,” I repeated loudly, getting his attention.
Lifting his head weakly, he smiled—or grimaced, it was a close call on which one it was—at me. “Can you get the ring out of my underwear drawer, please? I bought it before I proposed to you the first time, so I think it’ll fit.”
Throwing my head back, I burst out laughing. “I’m not entirely sure this is the best proposal story to tell our grandkids.”
Sinking back down until he had his forehead on the cool, wooden floor, he mumbled, “What’s more romantic than knowing your grandpa loved your grandma her whole life and that their love story continued until they had kids and grandkids together?”
Feeling the first tear spill down my cheek, I got down on my knees beside him. “I love you.”
Turning his head sideways, he slurred, “Love you, too. Now, go and get the ring.”
I’d just gotten to my feet when he grabbed my ankle and held out his other hand. “By the way, you’re pregnant.”
That fear I had before was still there, but I had so much happiness that it didn’t cripple me hearing those words.
Then he added to it. “This one’s going to be okay, I know it. Once I can stop shitting, we’ll call the OB-GYN and get an appointment for a check-up, just so you don’t have to panic.”
My reply was easy. “Deal, but you’re taking me to see a Victorian fatberg for our honeymoon.”