I nodded. “I know it's better this way. It was just hard. I was so worried it would change the way you see me. Knowing my past.”
“It does change it, but not in a bad way. It only lets me see that we still have a lot to learn about each other. But that doesn't bother me. We have time. Right?”
“Yes. We do.” I gazed into his eyes and brushed his hair from the side of his face. “I just need until the wedding is over. Then we can talk about our future. I don't want to overshadow Amy and you know how she is. She'll likely throw a temper tantrum if there's even the slightest rumbling of someone else trying to take her spotlight.”
“We could get engaged and not tell anyone.”
“Weren't you just saying you don't like secrets?”
Out in the hall, I could hear Luke's and Amy's voices. Fiona was, of course, talking a million miles a minute, even faster than Amy.
“But this would be different. It would be our secret.”
I reached down and took his hand in mine. “The minute you and I decide to get married, I'm going to want to call Amy and tell her everything. If I wait, she'll know it the second I finally tell her. And she'd never forgive me.”
Eamon drew in a deep breath through his nose and nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Are you disappointed?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah. Of course. But I can wait. I've already waited plenty long. What's a few more weeks? I just have one stipulation though.”
“What's that?”
“You'd better not expect a proposal from me the minute Amy and Luke exchange their vows. I still want to surprise you. You won't know when it's coming.”
I smiled wide. “That sounds wonderful.”
Fiona burst into our room. “Amy wants me to tell you that coffee is on and if you don't get your butts downstairs in five minutes, you'll have to wait for the second pot.”
I laughed and shook my head. “On our way.”
Eamon proceeded downstairs in his gray t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, but I grabbed an old sweatshirt and some slippers before catching up to him.
The kitchen was already full of the most amazing morning smells—coffee and bacon, which Luke was tending on the stove while Eamon sipped coffee and chatted with him. Amy had put cinnamon rolls in the oven. Dad and Julia were sitting at the table with Fiona, who was still working out the rules of snuggling.
Amy walked over to me. “We should probably make up a cooking schedule for today, don't you think?”
“Yes. That oven is so tiny. We're going to have to get creative.”
Fiona, Dad, and Julia all burst out laughing. Fiona was keening so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.
“Let's go sort this out in Dad's office,”Amy said.
“Perfect.” I followed her through the living room, where Dad already had the TV on and tuned to the station that would be playing the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.
Amy began rifling through the stacks of newspapers on Dad's desk. “Lord only knows how long it will take me to find a pad of paper and a pen.”
I held out my arms. “Here. Hand me a stack.”
“Why does he keep all of this crap?”
“He swears he's only keeping the important stuff.” I turned to put the papers on an old TV tray Dad was using as a table. I laid them on top of a pile of magazines, but half of them toppled over to the floor.
“Bingo. An actual notepad,” Amy said.
For a second, I considered leaving the papers on the floor, but Dad liked his mess tidy. I crouched down and saw a face that stopped me dead in my tracks. “Oh my God. Amy.” I couldn't pick it up. I didn't want to touch it.
“What?”
