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“Yes, please. And I’d like to request a matching band, if it’s not too much to ask. I can get you one too, if you’d like.”
His chest rises and falls as the words settle. “And how soon would you like to schedule this exchange?”
I shrug. “Right around the time I get cleared by the doctor to resume all regular physical activity would be ideal.”
He chuckles loudly, then he brings my hand up to his mouth for a kiss. “Is that so?”
“It is,” I reply, turning and hitching my leg over his so that I’m sitting in his lap. Then I kiss him again. “Blake Augustine Bourgeois ….” He moans when I enunciate his name. “You are my Darcy, my Wentworth, my Jamie Fraser, the Aragorn to my Arwen. And I’m desperate to marry you, if you’ll still have me, because I really want to spend the rest of our lives making up for lost time.” By the time I’m finished, I’m crying again.
He swallows hard and stares at me for a while before he says, “Sure, I guess we can do that.”
I slap him in the chest playfully, and he grins before he leans in for another long, tender kiss.
“So, how long before you think Doc will give you the all clear?” he asks when I finally pull away so I can catch my breath.
“At least not for another month or two.” But I’m already staring at his mouth again.
“Hmm,” he begins, running his hands down my back and making me shiver. “I think I’ll give Father Conrad a call early tomorrow morning, just to get his input on all this. Maybe he’ll be able to help with your request.”
“You do that, Gus-Gus.”
He tilts his head down to kiss me again, but he stops just short of my lips, teasing me. “You know, once we get married, I won’t be able to call you ‘Reed’ anymore.”
“You’ve got enough nicknames to choose from,” I mumble, willing him to close in the space.
“And after the new ones you gave me tonight, it looks like I’ve got some catching up to do,” he whispers, brushing his lips over mine before he backs away again. His mouth curls up to form a satisfied smirk when I whimper. “But, you know, Agnes, out of all the names you’ve called me so far, I have to say ‘Daddy’ is my favorite.”
Epilogue
A FEW MONTHS LATER
LOREN
This is it.
It’s really happening.
I lift my eyes to Blake’s face, and his expression knocks the wind out of me. He’s staring at me with his eyebrows drawn together and his chin trembling. The emotion in his eyes is enough to reassure me that I’m doing the right thing, because there’s no way this man would be looking at me the way he is right now unless he was seriously in love with me. Then he brings his hand up to swipe at his cheeks, and I lose it. A sob wracks my chest against my will, making Blake shake his head at me softly in an unspoken apology.
But it’s okay, because as far as “first looks” go, I can’t imagine a more amazing reaction than this. It’s also classic Blake behavior, because only he could manage to make being a big sap look so good.
I continue watching through teary eyes as JD nudges Blake, making him smile. Then he blows out a breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the exertion. Meanwhile, I’m biting my lip to keep myself from ugly crying the rest of the way to him.
“Hey, Dad? Can we pick this up?” I venture after I regain control of my lungs.
He laughs quietly and quickens our pace, stopping at the altar to shake Blake’s hand and pat him affectionately on the arm (well, as affectionately as my father ever gets) before shuffling off to the front pew.
“Hi,” Blake whispers, turning his attention to me. “You look …perfect.”
I swallow hard. “You’re pretty freaking hot, too.”
He leans in, chuckling softly. “I still can’t believe you agreed to marry me when you wouldn’t even let me take you to the senior prom. But I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
“Ditto,” is all I can choke out.
He takes my hand to lead us up the altar, but not before gently pressing his lips to my knuckles. My knees threaten to buckle beneath me. Maybe I should just ask him to carry me up the steps?
Tenley walks over and winks as she collects my bouquet. I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself as Blake and I turn to face the priest, although the way his thumb is rubbing soft circles on the back of my hand only makes me anxious for an entirely different reason.
