Page 75 of Old-Fashioned

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When I woke up, feeling deliciously warm, I pressed a kiss on the top of Birdie’s hand, her ring catching the light streaming in through the windows.

And that was when I realized what had woken me up.

Once I was dressed and used the bathroom, I headed into the living room, to see the kids laughing at a cartoon.

Twenty minutes later I made bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches on toast.

Birdie came walking down the hall, wiping sleep from her eyes, her hair in disarray, seeing my ring on her finger, I felt my chest puff out.

I knew that when she smiled at me, sniffed the air appreciatively then hugged the kids, and sat down on the barstool that she hadn’t seen it yet.

Just then there was a knock on the door, I pushed the plates in front of everyone and headed to the door.

Checking to see who it was, I disarmed the alarm, and opened the door.

Caelan smiled at me, a bruise over his right eye, I offered him my fist, which he bumped with his own, and then I asked, “You killed it. Good work, bro.”

“Appreciate it.” He chuckled.

At his voice, the kids came running down the hall and throwing themselves in his arms.

Laughing and wanting to give them a moment, I made my way back to Birdie to see her eating her sandwich, she looked over her shoulder at me, smiled, and kept eating.

Caelan came into the kitchen with one kid in each arm.

They settled in, as tilted my head to the sandwiches, and asked, “You want one?”

At his nod, I pushed mine toward him, and made me another.

He was a few bites in as he looked at Birdie, and said, “Thank you for watching them and congrats by the way, when’s the big day?”

She looked at him smiled, and then frowned, confusion marring her beautiful features.

It took everything I had in me not to snicker.

“When’s the big day? What do you mean?”

He looked at her, then at me, took in my face, and saw I was trying to not laugh, widened his eyes, and then looked back at Birdie, “So what’s that on your hand? A decoration?”

It took her a moment and then looked at her hands holding the sandwich.

And froze.

All except for her eyes that went wide.

Her head snapped up, her mouth agape, her eyes ping-ponged from the ring and back to me several times.

Snickering, I asked, “Cat got your tongue?”

She gaped, then stuttered, “Is this… are you… asking?”

I shook my head, “Nope. Not asking. Telling you.”

And what happened next… it was something I definitely didn’t think she would do.

She jumped off her bar stool, raced around the island to me, fisted my t-shirt in her hand and started pulling me behind her.

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