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He follows on my heels, chuckling. “I would expect you to have somebody answering the door for you.”
I'll choose to take that comment at face value and not read into it. “I gave almost everyone the night off. I wanted it to be just the three of us tonight.”
“I appreciate you trusting me that much.”
“As we said, we're putting all that in the past.” Still, I can't help but scowl at him when he falls in step beside me. “And I know you wouldn't do anything to upset Bianca.”
“Good point.” To my surprise, he grabs my arm as I reach for the doorknob. “You're sure it's safe?”
“I still have men down at the gate. They wouldn't let anyone up who couldn't be trusted.” Still, I'm slow to open the door, scanning the area before looking down to find a plain cardboard box on the doormat. I glimpse up to find a brown truck rolling down the driveway, its taillights disappearing before I bend to pick up the package.
“Probably something Tatum ordered,” I murmur, checking the label and finding her name. “Sure enough. I'm starting to think she's collecting mailing labels at this point.”
“How is she, by the way?” he asks as I close and lock the door.
“She seems to be getting better. She's been going out more, which is a big step up from locking herself in her room day and night.” I toss the box onto the table beside the door, where she can pick it up once she gets home.
“I'm pleased to hear that.”
And here we are, awkwardly staring at each other for lack of anything else to say. “Were you going to ask me something before we were interrupted?” he prompts, sliding his hands into his pockets, lifting his brows.
“Yes.”
From where I stand, I can see the powder room door. It's still closed, and the faint sound of running water tells me she's busy washing her face. If I'm going to do this, I need to do it now. Here I am, a man some have called heartless, brutal, and countless other names on top of that. Nevertheless, I can't find the words to express what's in my heart. Especially not to this man, who already thinks so poorly of me no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
“I'm going to say it all at once, since it's not easy for me to talk about these things. I love your daughter very much. She is the most important thing in my world besides my own daughter—and the baby, of course. I would stop at nothing to make her happy. While she's with me, she will never know anything but love. You can be sure of that.”
“I believe you.”
“Thank you. I know we haven't done things the traditional way, but I want to make things official with the baby coming and with me already sure of my commitment to her.”
He looks like he regrets he ever stopped drinking, his eyes widening as he gulps. “I see.”
The ring box is heavier than ever. I've looked at the ring so many times since picking it up from the jeweler that I see it clearly in my mind's eye. The pair of delicate platinum bands wound together into something more substantial, symbolizing the way our lives have intertwined. The brilliant cut, four-carat diamond that I would swear holds fire in its center—I've never seen a stone throw off the sort of light it does.
And engraved inside, the wordsForever Mine. I'm aching to slide it onto her finger.
“I wanted to do this right,” I explain while my fingers itch to pull the box free. “I want to marry your daughter. I hope for your blessing—or at least your acceptance, if your blessing is too much to ask for right now.”
We turn in unison when the powder room door opens and Bianca emerges, fresh-faced, looking happy and content until she sees us standing together. “What happened?” she asks, freezing like a deer in headlights.
“Nothing. Just a delivery.” I jerk my chin toward the kitchen. “And that tiramisu is calling my name.”
“Thank you for cleaning up, by the way. I noticed when I walked through the kitchen.” She winks at Charlie, giggling. “You're full of surprises.”
“I do know how to use a sponge,” I retort as the three of us stroll down the hall. “And I'm fairly sure I even remembered to put soap in the dishwasher. You're supposed to use the stuff in the bottle on the sink, right?”
“Ha, ha.” Then she looks at me, frowning. “You're not serious, are you?”
“No. That's what's called a joke.”
Charlie heaves a sigh behind us. “Somehow, my daughter got it into her head that men are all helpless.”
“Gee, where could I have gotten that idea from?” she fires back, smirking as she lifts the cake from its box.
“You want some coffee?” I ask Charlie, who nods eagerly. Anything, so long as I have something to do, something to distract myself. It's amazing how a situation like this can make a man forget everything he knows.
Do I do it here and now? Should I wait? I don't know if I can wait. The days since I picked up the ring have been utter torture. No matter what I do, all I can think about is presenting it to her. Getting down on one knee, the whole thing. Making us official. It's the least she deserves.
