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“Oh, Beauregard,” she cried, sliding over to me and wrapping her arms around the back of my neck. “Of course, you can have her hand.” She buried her face in my chest, shaking with each sob.
I held her and said, “Thank you, Noémie. I can’t tell you how badly I feel for not contacting you before I asked the first time.”
She shook her head and looked up at me after she let me go. “Do not feel badly. This is all good. The only thing now is to get Geneviève on board.” Then she started laughing again. “You did it again, I’m sorry. That look is so cute, though. Don’t be confused, Beauregard. But can I let you in on a little secret?”
I leaned forward because she’d lowered her voice. “Any proposals that happen in bed, don’t count.”
Even though it was well below freezing out here right now, I felt my cheeks flush. “Oh.”
“Do not worry. We will work out a plan. You and I,” she said, patting my hand before another fit of laughter overtook her.
After the movie,the boys wanted to try skating again.
The second time was not a charm.
More crying and flailing.
I was incredibly grateful for Noémie’s patience. She kept telling me that Geneviève had been even worse than the boys were currently acting. Then she’d try all sorts of things to get their minds off being frustrated and onto trying again.
An hour later and I was ready for bed.
But the boys were really ready.
I took them inside and gave them a quick bath. Once their pajamas were on, they ran to the kitchen for more of Noémie’s cookies.
All through this, I’d keenly observed that Geneviève had not moved an inch. She was still engrossed in whatever book she’d been reading.
I sat down at the table and talked with Noémie and the boys while they ate. I may have stolen a few more cookies. It was Christmas, you had to.
Noémie announced that it was teeth brushing time and asked if it was okay for her to oversee that and to read them books. I gladly gave in.
The boys gave me hugs and kisses, then ran to Geneviève to do the same. She put her book down and grabbed them both in a rough and tumble embrace that made them all laugh. Including me.
Watching her with my kids gave me an almost indescribable feeling. Like she was directly hugging my heart.
“Night, Jon a beeve,” they said in tandem as they tore through the house, passed Noémie and hopefully to the room that she’d prepared for them.
I cleaned up in the kitchen, keeping an eye on my fiancée. Or future fiancée.
I was mostly sure she’d say ‘yes’ if asked again.
Wouldn’t she?
After Noémie had pointed out the fact that bedroom marriage proposals didn’t count—I’d begun to feel increasingly worried.
I hadn’t asked her to marry me just so I could get into her panties.
Yes, she’d torn them off immediately after I’d asked her to marry me—but she couldn’t have thought that was the only reason I’d asked her.
Could she?
She had to have known that I was serious.
But all these days later, she hadn’t said a word.
Once I was done loading the dishwasher, Noémie was back. “They didn’t even make it passed the third page,” she said, giggling to herself. “Skating is tiring.”
“Especially when you spend most of the time flat out on the ice, crying and screaming,” I said, sounding as frustrated as I felt.
