“Marry me.”
She froze.
The silence stretched from seconds to a minute. Then, another minute. Finally, I said, “In case you were wondering … I don’t want to marry you at breakfast tomorrow, but I—”
She laughed.
Then I laughed.
Albany shifted to face me, linking her fingers with mine. “It’s so funny you said that because I immediately thought about marrying you at breakfast tomorrow.”
I trailed a finger down her cheek. “Did you?”
She searched my eyes. “I told myself I never wanted to get married again.”
“I know. We had that discussion, remember?”
“Right.”
I lifted her palm to my mouth, brushed her knuckles with my lips. “We’ve spent too much time apart. I don’t want to spend another night away from you.”
A smirk formed on her lips. “Why not just ask to move in?”
Chuckling, I whispered, “That’s not enough. I want more. I want everything.”
“Don’t you think it’s too fast?”
“It feels like a long time coming.”
“So”—she shifted again, wrapping her legs around my waist—“I don’t hate the idea.”
“But?”
“Shit”—she gasped when I pressed my growing erection against her—“you’re not playing fair.”
“I play to win.”
“Before we go there, and we will, I just feel like we need to kind of get to know each other a little more.”
“I already know who you are.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I have a lot of baggage, Wes.”
“And I don’t care.” I kissed her cheek where a lone tear fell. “I just want you with me.”
“Iamwith you.”
“Officially.”
She closed her eyes, counted to ten softly. “You’re definitely not playing fair,” she repeated, finally meeting my waiting gaze again. “No secrets. I want the truth. All the time.”
“I promise.”
“Promise me that we will love each other through everything. The bad times, the good times, the quiet times, the loud times. Even when we get on each other’s nerves. Even when we want to walk away, we have to stay and fight for us.”
“Bug, I love you. And I promise to always love you.”
Her chin trembled. “Always,” she whispered.
