“What did you say?”
“You know, you and Lola are really cute together. She’s also learning new words every day, so imagine my surprise when she mentioned, what was it…” She brings a finger to her chin. “Ring. Daddy. Box.I believe the sentence was ‘Daddy, ring, Mommy.’”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips as I pinch the bridge of my nose, stifling a laugh. “Clearly, our daughter has not developed secret-keeping skills.”
Elodie shakes her head. “Nope. Also, when shementioned the ring, then I kind of bribed her with an extra cookie.”
“That’s not playing fair.” I approach her slowly, grinning despite myself. I stop in front of her, hoist Elodie up onto the counter so she's seated between my legs, and gently place my hands on her hips to steady her. "And what did her mommy have to say after that?" I ask. Looking up, I catch her soft smile as her eyes meet mine.
“That she shouldn’t tell you that I know.” She laughs once.
I’m not going to lead us around this playful circle. “Fine. Let me be more direct. I wanted to respect your pace and have been waiting for a sign. We’ve talked about it before. What it would mean. How if Lola gets a sister or brother then we don’t want to have too much of an age difference between them. Those are all indicators. So yes. There is a ring, a box, you, me, a wedding, a marriage.”
“Oh, am I agreeing to this?” she pretends and teases me.
I shake my head because this woman isn’t going to make it easy. I would have had a romantic dinner planned for this, but instead, we are about to enter party chaos. But I think this suits us. Elodie and I have always been about having conversations when planning. Since we reentered our lives, we have been extra careful not to miss details. We learned our lesson already. So, asking her to marry me this way might be fitting.
“Elodie,” I firmly state her name. “You are agreeing. I’m asking you to marry me, but I’ll only accept one answer.” Her face softens, and I see her eyes turn misty. I bring the palms of my hands to her cheeks, our gaze fully locked. “Marry me,” I rasp.
She leaves me waiting for a few seconds, but I’m not worried. “Yes,” she whispers.
“Good. We agree.” I smile at her before I slam my mouthonto hers. A hard, confirming kiss as she hooks her knees around my waist, keeping me locked in as though she’ll never let go. And she won’t. She smiles and makes that sound that I love when our tongues dust. I break away briefly. “There is a ring.”
She shushes my mouth with hers. “And I’ll love it. But today is about Lola. You can show me later tonight. Let’s enjoy this change just us for a day or two before everybody finds out.”
“Fair enough.” I steal one more peck of a kiss from her. “I love you.”
“I love you, future husband.”
“Want to head to the courthouse next week? During lunch break, instead of grabbing a sandwich?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Ha. Not happening.”
We stay in the embrace and bask in our news for a few minutes. Soft kisses and whispers of nothing.
An hour later, guests fill our living room, while the kids sit at a special table in the corner where two women are painting faces on the little girls and the others decorate eggs. This is going to go wrong somewhere, I feel it. Messy, for sure. Then Elodie is going to taunt me with the reminder of having the wrong-colored sofa for kids, which will result in me having a new one delivered ASAP.
“Loving the party vibes,” Savannah compliments in passing, holding up a bottle of something as she heads to where Elodie is busy in the kitchen with Sutton.
“Thanks,” I call out as I finally sink onto the sofa after wrangling the kids to their table and ensuring our family had drinks because apparently watching the kids is their idea of fun. Elodie’s parents cornered me about grandkids and us living together, but no ring, even though I already asked herdad’s permission. Now he’s watching the clock. I really need a breather.
“The lack of balloons at a kids' party is a little weird, but I’ll let you go because the 500-dollar bottle of champagne for the adults is a nice touch,” Julian mentions as he finds a spot on the opposite sofa. “We’ll need it when the kids start reaching their sugar high.”
Easton and Foster arrive, chatting with drinks in hand, and find places to sit and join us.
“Is this the place where we watch the insanity unfold? Only for you am I at a kids' party on a Sunday afternoon.” Easton grins cheekily, then huddles in toward the coffee table. “And what are the chances you know if the face painter with a talent for bears is single?” he asks in a low voice.
Chuckling to myself, I’m not surprised. “I don’t know. You can ask herafterthe party.”
Foster rolls his eyes at Easton’s antics, then brings his gaze to me. “How does it feel to have a three-year-old?”
“Amazing. I kind of wish there were a way for her to stop growing.” In September, she’ll start preschool. Affection fills me to the brim. I’m truly lucky—Lola is the sweetest little girl.
“She sleeps through the night, right?” Foster is curious.
I nod. “Yeah, always has, I think. Only wakes if she’s sick or there’s a storm.”
Julian squints his eyes as he examines across the room. “Prepare yourselves, gentlemen, the ladies are stirring up some drinks.”
