“Ordinary babies do, but Weston is no ordinary baby. This boy is a stretcher. He does not like being cramped.”
As if to demonstrate, Weston stretched his arms wide, grunted, and wiggled his bottom, getting comfy.
“Well, what do you know?” Griffin chuckled. “Dang. Look at that thick red hair.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“He got my stupid cowlick, though,” he said, like it was the worst trait a kid could possibly inherit.
“It’s okay. We’ll teach him about the magic of the directional blow-dry and Smoothing Serum No. 4.”
Griffin’s eyes snapped to mine. “You just said ‘we’ll.’”
My gaze fell to his hands, resting on his thighs. He was no longer wearing his wedding band. That realization felt like someone dropped a barbell on my chest. But what had I expected? Of course he’d taken it off.
“Oh,” I said, heart in my throat. “I thought that’s what you meant when you said family.”
“It is.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s just… I was pretty ticked after you disappeared and I… kind of signed those divorce papers.”
“Shoot.” I fell back against the mattress.
He sighed. “I guess this is another secret we’ll add to the list of things not to tell Weston about.”
I laughed—really laughed—for the first time since I’d left. “Definitely.”
Griffin slipped off the bed, and panic flared inside me. I wanted him to stay here next to me forever.
He gazed down at Weston and me. “Guess we’d better hurry and right that wrong before Granny Dupree loses her ever-lovin’ mind.” Then he dropped to one knee.
My breath froze.
“Julie Margot Skinner.” He looked up at me, eyes raw. “Will you please let me spend the rest of my life loving you the way you deserve to be loved?”
“Griff,” I said. “I’m so messed up. I have so much trauma and probably two million hours of therapy. Are you sure you want to?—”
“And,” he cut me off. “Let me respect you when you say no?—”
“I can’t say no to you.”
“You have to.” His voice went quiet. “Ineedyou to. I never want you to give me something you don’t want to give.” He said it as if he were reminding me that deep down, I was a treasure. Like everything that had been done to me had never changed who I was underneath. It felt like he was speaking a foreign language.
And all I could say in response was, “I’ll do my best.”
“Good.” He smiled just barely. “Now, where were we?”
“You’re going to respect me when I say no.”
“Right.” One brow lifted mischievously. “And let meravish youwhen you say yes?—”
I snorted.
His smile was crooked. “Make you laugh every day, hold you when you cry, do the dishes, take out the trash, clean up your puke when you’re sick, pretend your farts smell good?—”
I cackled.
“—rub your feet before bed, and spend hours staring at your impossibly beautiful face?”
I tilted my head. “If you’ll let me do all of that right back.”
