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“You’re kidding, right?” Waverly asked. “The French don’t eat beanie weanies.”
“Instead of a pizza tonight,” I said. “Why don’t we take her to La Creperie?”
“Works for me,” Duke said.
“Okay, but I’m not eating snails. Snails belong in flowerbeds, not on your plate,” she quipped.
“Eating out twice in one day,” I said to Duke, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You spoil us.”
“That’s the plan.” He grinned and brushed his lips across mine.
I wished for more than anything that he could come in and stay the night, but Waverly and I shared a bedroom.
“I’ll be here tomorrow morning before you have to drive Waverly to school,” he said, settling his hands on my hips. “We’ll drop her off and then go to the courthouse and get our shit straight with the marriage license. We’ve got to wait three days, but then we can get it done.”
“Get it done,” I teased. “How romantic.”
“My proposal was pretty damn romantic, wasn’t it?”
“It was romantic and perfect, and I appreciate every thoughtful gesture you do for me. For us.”
He kissed me one last time and then sauntered down the walk toward his bike. I waited until he’d zoomed away before heading inside.
Waverly was at the kitchen table, devouring a crème brûlée we’d ordered to go.
“I’m not going to get any of that, am I?” I asked.
“Better hurry up and find a spoon.”
“So, it’s safe to say you actually like French food,” I said, heading to a kitchen drawer.
“Better than like. I rescind my snails comment.”
“Thought you might.”
I pulled out the chair next to her and dug my spoon into the container.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Sounds serious.” I stuck the spoon in my mouth and nearly moaned over the custard and caramelized sugar hitting my tongue.
“It is serious,” she said, blue eyes wide as she peered at me.
I faced her and set my spoon down. “You don’t approve of me marrying Duke.”
“I do.” She nodded. “You know I do. I love him like my own brother. And he makes you happy. This is about what happens after you get married. After we move into the big house. Just, after…”
She paused and I didn’t push, knowing she was going to speak when she was ready.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I’d really like something from you.”
“What do you need?” I asked. “If it’s within my power, you know I’ll give it to you.”
She nodded and cleared her throat. “I want to drop out of school.”
“What?”
She held up her hand. “I want to withdraw from school. I don’t want to go to summer school. I want to get my GED and then I’d really like to take classes at the community college that will help me focus on growing this furniture flipping business. I don’t love school. I’m bored. I want to spend more of my time focusing on what I love to do. And the furniture thing…it’s different each time. Each piece is unique in its own way, and I love every aspect of it. I love hunting for a piece. I love the creative reinvention of it, and I love actually selling the pieces. I love being able to provide for myself. And I don’t want to have to wait until I’m eighteen to do it.”
