“Why is there a ring on my finger?” I demand.
“Because we’re engaged,” he informs me, giving my hand another squeeze. Pressing his lips to my bare shoulder, he adds, “Together for six years, we’ve got a kid and a house—we should probably think about having that wedding soon, you know. You really should’ve married me years ago; I don’t know what you’re making me wait for.”
Grinning, I tell him, “You can’t Family Man into an engagement, Derek Noble, you have to ask.”
Sighing, he says, “Fine.” Grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips, he kisses my knuckles. His familiar blue eyes twinkle with every bit as much mischief as they held at 18-years-old, and he asks, “Nikki Harmon, will you marry me?”
The grin on my face grows until my face can’t stretch another centimeter. It’s hard to fathom my heart can be as full as it is right now, impossible to imagine it could ever be fuller. I’d given up on all this so long ago, it really does feel like a dream. As I squeeze my hand into a fist and feel the cool band on my finger, I wait for the inevitable moment when my eyes open and I’m alone in my bed, alone in my life, and this was all a cruel dream. A lump forms in my throat at the thought, at the possibility of all this being snatched away from me.
It might take a little time before I can believe all this is mine, and the floor isn’t going to fall out from under me, but unlike before, I know Derek is equipped to handle it this time. If I wake up one day with doubts, I know he’ll be right beside me, shoving them away. If the ugly fingers of fear ever close around my heart again, Derek will pry them away and wrap me up in his love.
Sighing, I lean in and kiss his lips. “Yes. Yes, I sure will.”
Chapter Thirty Five
Rummaging through a box in search of my pretty navy blue shorts to go with the white lacy top I’m wearing today, I hear Cassidy call out for the 15th time that she can’t find her red, white, and blue pom pom headband. I know Derek hid it because he thinks it makes her look like an alien, so I call back and remind her we bought her a new one with red, white, and blue sequins.
Stomping down the hallway, she stops in the doorway. Her flowy flag-print dress swings as she plants a hand on her hip and scowls at me. “I don’t want to wear that one, I wanna wear the sparkly one with the pom poms.”
“And I want an unpacking fairy to poof into existence and put all my clothes away,” I tell her. “Sometimes we don’t get what we want.”
I’m still wearing pajama bottoms at the moment, but Cassidy eyes up the white lace shirt I have on. “That’s pretty.”
“Thank you.”
Plopping down on our bed, she swings her legs. “Daddy hid it, didn’t he?”
I bite back a smile. The day Cassidy and I brought home her weird headband, Derek immediately vetoed it. “I think your daddy is afraid of aliens,” I inform her.
“It’s not an alien headband,” she insists.
“What I’m saying is, you should tell him that you understand why he hid your headband, since he’s so afraid of aliens. Tell him it’s okay that he’s a scaredy cat, you totally understand, and you’ll wear the headband you don’t like as much so as not to scare him.”
Understanding dawns and she grins, hopping off my bed and running down the hallway to torture Derek.
I grin to myself and go back to searching through boxes.
As expected, he comes into the bedroom a few minutes later. His strong arms wrap around me from behind. I’ve found the shorts, now I’m moving hangers in the closet, trying to find my red blazer.
“Scaredy cat, huh?” he asks.
Shrugging my shoulders innocently, I tell him, “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
“I am not afraid of aliens. I mean, if someday they invade the planet and enslave all of us, I won’t be a big fan, but I am not afraid of them.”
“Of course not,” I murmur, patting his hand reassuringly.
“You’re a pest,” he informs me, moving my hair away from my neck and pressing his lips there. “Good thing you’re so sexy.”
Chuckling, I murmur, “Otherwise you’d get rid of me, huh?”
“Mm.” His lips move along the curve of my shoulder and he looks down the front of my low-cut top. “Jesus Christ, your boobs look amazing in this. I think we need to hit the brakes on getting ready and ‘make the bed’ again.”
“We’re already late,” I remind him, untangling myself from his embrace and plucking my red blazer off its hanger. “And Cassidy is already mad at you for not wearing appropriately patriotic clothing; let’s not further aggravate her by keeping her from the cook-out even longer.”
“I’m wearing blue,” he says, vaguely defending himself. “Blue is one of the three colors you two dorks are wearing.”
Turning to look at him while I shrug my red blazer on over my white top and pull my long hair out the back, I lift my eyebrows. “Do you really think calling me a dork is the best way to get laid?”