You might have thought the building was on fire. I dropped a kiss on the top of her head and practically sprinted out to my car.
A pregnancy test. A pregnancy test.
Sophie might be pregnant.
How did this happen? Well, duh, condoms aren’t fool-proof. Al gave me that lecture when I turned fourteen.
By the time I get to the drug store, I’ve run the scenarios in my mind, and I’m hoping for two lines on the test stick. I’m already at the church kissing my bride.
I know Sophie’s skittish. I know she’s not sure she wants to be in a relationship with me. But I also know when we’re together, she’s happy. I know we have an insane amount of chemistry, and beyond that, we understand each other. We have history. And maybe I like the fact that there’s still a bit of winning her over to do. She’s the kind of woman who will keep me on my toes. I’m the kind of guy who loves a challenge.
So if that test stick shows two lines, I figure it’s meant to be. It’s the exact impetus we need to push us the rest of the way together.
I buy a couple of test kits, just in case she wants to double-check the results, and then I hit the candy aisle where I find a candy ring. I check out and go to my car, pocketing the ring, rehearsing proposal speeches in my head.
I find Sophie pacing back and forth when I get back. She snatches the bag from me and runs off to the bathroom.
I trail behind and wait at the closed door, my palms sweating, my mouth dry.
A minute later, she opens the door, jumping back when she finds me just behind it. “Oh.” She thrusts the stick at me. “We have to wait another minute before we know.”
I wrap my arms around her from behind, holding the test window right in front of her, so we can both watch it.
“I-is that another line?”
“I think it is,” I murmur in her ear.
“This…was not the plan,” she croaks.
“Fate intervened,bella.” I set the stick on the sink and gather her close in my arms, rocking her slightly back and forth and meeting her stricken gaze in the mirror. “When I was supposed to marry Amelia, it seemed like the right thing. Like I was following the plan. I was going to marry a nice Catholic girl and have a family. But I felt completely empty. The plan sucked.”
I can feel her heart hammering through her back, up against my ribs. She’s trembling a little, but her gaze is glued to mine, like I’m somehow going to deliver her from her fears.
“With you, Soph, the idea of a family is wild and colorful. Full of music and laughter and possibility. I don’t know what it would look like. It’s not a cookie cutter thing that was derived from a plan. It’s an ever-evolving, dynamic, beautiful relationship. One fate chose for us.”
“Is it?” she whispers like she wants to believe but isn’t quite sure.
“Why do you think I was drawn to you at your dad’s funeral? I was a selfish prick in my twenties. I didn’t give anyone the time of day, but I made room in my cold heart for you. I think some part of me must’ve known, then.”
“Known what?” She turns to look at me over her shoulder now, away from the mirror.
I rotate her in my arms and cradle her face. “That you would be mine.”
I pull out the candy ring and drop to one knee. “Sophie,” I attempt to convey with every ounce of sincerity in my heart, “I know you think I’m not the safe guy, the one you raise your kids with. But I need you to know there is no one safer for you than me. I’ll be your man. I’ll take care of you. I’ll provide for and protect our family. I won’t fuck around. I won’t break your heart. You can count on me. I’m a man of my word.”
Sophie’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. I pull her to perch on my bent knee. “Marry me?”
She laugh-cries, taking the candy ring from me and unwrapping it. “You got me a candy ring?”
“I’ll get you a real one tomorrow. We’ll go together and pick one out. I want you to have something you love.”
A tear drips down her face.
“Are those happy tears, baby? Please say yes.”
She swallows and nods. “Yes.” She lets out a sob with another laugh. She wraps her arms around my neck. “I can’t believe you just proposed with a candy ring on the bathroom floor.”
“Yeah, not my best-executed move, but it will be a story to tell the grandkids, right?” We both climb to our feet.