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“The timing isn’t right. I don’t want to strong-arm her into a wedding she isn’t ready for, and perhaps I’m not either. Not because I don’t care about her. I do, so much. And not because it wouldn’t mean something now.”
“But,” my father prompted.
“If we wait and take our time, it will mean even more later. And then she will know.”
He rubbed his forehead as if I’d pained him. I probably had. Lord knows I’d pained myself plenty since that night at the bar.
I hadn’t gone completely radio silent. I couldn’t. Not seeing her or smelling her summery scent or feeling the softness of her skin was almost more than I could bear. I couldn’t not communicate with her as well, even if that communication was mostly one-sided. But it still felt like a conversation, because for every other origami frog or lizard or bird I delivered to her, she would send something back. Sometimes a few words if I asked her a question. Sometimes a trinket from her day. A fresh tea bag from the box that matched the drink she’d made while reading a novel, a clip of something from the paper.
Yesterday, I’d sent her flowers, and she’d returned a few of the petals with little smiley faces and hearts written on them. I had saved those petals and placed them in a shallow dish of water at home. The ink was half smeared off, but I didn’t care. It was the thought that counted.
What we were doing was completely old-fashioned and no one would understand it. I wasn’t sure I even did myself. All I knew was that it seemed as if by taking this time and being absolutely sure of what we wanted, we wouldn’t have to go through this again.
Or maybe that was just wishful mailing.
We’d seen each other a couple of times at my brother’s while visiting the new baby, but those times were few and far between. I eagerly sucked up every glimpse of her, trying to catalog the minute changes in her body. What I wouldn’t give to be at her side day and night.
Hopefully, one day soon that would be part of my reality.
“Know what, son?” my father asked, obviously realizing I wasn’t going to offer an explanation without his nudge.
“She’ll know what she means to me, because everything I’ve done has been against my nature. All I want to do is charge in and claim her and my kid. Tell the whole world that she’s mine.”
“So why haven’t you?”
I frowned. “I had to set things up the right way. And she didn’t want me to take over, she even said so.”
“So, what’s your plan then? Just to sit back and let her come to you? How’s that working out for you?”
“No. Not exactly. There are pieces to put in order, parts of this that I need to slip into place before I—” I groaned. “Jesus, I’ve gotta stop with the damn pieces. She doesn’t want all that. Or just that. I need to go with emotion. That means a big, over-the-top production that has a high likelihood of failure, like Seth did for Ally.”
“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” my father said drily.
“I intended to do the Vegas thing in a few months. Seth gave me that idea, so I owe him for that. But by asking her to marry me now, it seems as if I’m just doing it so everyone in town won’t talk about how I got her pregnant.”
“Son, everyone in town will not be talking about that. Look around you. It’s 2018. Most people do not notice or care about such things any longer.”
I stopped pacing and sank into a chair across from my father. Actually, I think my legs gave out. “Pardon me?”
He waved a hand. “Come on now. Crescent Cove is a small town, and we do have our gossips, but we aren’t rooted that far in the past.”
“What about you? You just insisted I was going to marry her as soon as I told you I’d gotten her pregnant.”
“Yes, but not for the sake of looks. You’re in love with that girl, and you have been for some time now. The obvious mating dance you two have been engaging in for years gets far more attention than her having your baby.”
I searched for my voice and discovered it had given out just like my damn legs.
“About time you start a family,” my father went on. “I’m just relieved you didn’t find yourself in a Seth and Marjorie situation, though who can fault the result.” My father smiled while I tried to find my balls where they’d been crushed under his wingtips. “Sweetest little girl to ever be born, our Laurie.”
I grunted in agreement. Mating dance? Us? Okay, yes, probably. But even my father had noticed it when I had not.
God help me, I was daft. We were daft.
I didn’t want to waste another second on trying to set up the perfect way to fix this. Life was messy. The woman I loved didn’t want perfection. She just wanted to know her opinions were valued and that we were a team. Figuring things out together.
Oh, and that I loved her. She’d said that was a vital part of marriage, and she was right. She just didn’t realize I was already right there.
She might not be. But she felt something strong for me. I could see it in her eyes and every time she touched me. I could work with that.
