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REAL
Quinn was saying, “Seriously, I—” and looking alarmed.
Beckett said, “No. It’s good. I wanted to—” He had to break off. He had no idea how to do this, actually. How had he done it before? He hadn’t done any kneeling down, that was sure. Abby would’ve laughed. Also, Quinn wasn’t Abby. He hadn’t lived with her for two and a half years, and they hadn’t …
Wait. This was not the program. He said, “I think we should at least talk about it.”
“Oh,” she said. “OK. I guess.” Which was not a promising beginning. “Also, I think we were right to wait to tell the kids about Samantha. Seeing me like this is bad enough for today, and they need their Christmas. I’m still worried about their reaction, and I’m sure you are, too, but we have to tell them. Probably tomorrow. Otherwise, what happens when you take them to see their grandparents? That’s too big a secret. I just wish there were a better way to explain it. Emphasizing the accident, that’s all I can think of. That Samantha didn’t mean to do it, but it was such a wrong choice.”
He said, “I agree. Do you think we could talk about this later?”
“Oh,” she said. “OK.” And looked nervous.
He said, “I realize it’s early days. And that I was already married, and I just gave everybody a speech about how much I loved my wife. You may need more time to believe you’re not some consolation prize.”
“Well, gee,” she said, “if you get all romantic like that—” Shewaslaughing at him, which was better.
He grinned. “That good, huh? But—yeah.” He took her hand. That seemed like a better start. “I reckon I knew about as soon as you did, even when I tried to tell myself I didn’t. I kept thinking I should walk away, that I wasn’t ready, and I couldn’t. It just felt … right. Didn’t it?”
“Yes.” It was hard to tell what she was feeling, with the eyes and the nose and all, but her hand was warm and strong in his. “And I know it’s impulsive. This whole thing has gone so fast already, and talking about marriage … Statistically, it’s better to be together at least a couple of years, so you’re not in the honeymoon phase, and—”
“I think once your nose gets broken,” he said, “the honeymoon’s over.”
“Ha. But you know what I mean. Also, interestingly, it’s betternotto have lived together. Of course, statistics aren’t individuals.”
“No, they aren’t. And nobody’s saying we can’t wait two years for the wedding if you insist on it—a year and a half now—but—”
“A year and eight months, really,” she said.
“Excuse me. Whose proposal is this?”
“Is that what it is?”
He tried to glare. “Yes. If you’d let me do it.”
“Sorry,” she said. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you. I think we should forget about the not living together part, though. That ship has sailed. Also, Troy likes your house better.”
She sighed. “I would so love that. You can’t imagine how much. You have a lease, though.”
“I’m guessing I can get out of it. You think they’re not going to be able to rent that place again? It’s brand new. It has quartz countertops and luxury vinyl plank flooring. Bacon hasn’t even taken a wee on the carpets yet.”
“Have I mentioned,” she said, “that I hate luxury vinyl plank flooring?”
“Yeah? So you wouldn’t want to live there. Good. Let’s live in your house. Want to sell half of it to me?”
“Gee, you’re romantic.”
“I’m a construction manager. Can’t help it. You could let me take over the payments if you’d rather. We could run the numbers.”
“You’re saying this like it’s the point,” she said. “It’s so not the point.”
He sobered. “I know. If you’re not sure you love me enough yet, or whether it’ll work with the kids, we can wait. But I had to ask. I saw you in that flat, and in the ambulance. I have to ask.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “Not this, or anything else. I made my own decisions, and I’m responsible for them.”
“I know you did. That’s probably why I love you. One of the reasons.”
