Page 18 of Taking The Shot

“Well,” he chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension in both of them. “Considering the courthouse is closed right now, and we’ve both got work tomorrow, how about we talk tomorrow night?”

“I’ve got open house at the school tomorrow night,” she reminded him.

“Want me to bring three Happy Meals to the school for dinner?” he offered without hesitation. He heard the tiny gasp of surprise, then a soft, nervous laugh that sent warmth curling through his chest.

“I’m not joking,” he added. “You might need help with Kayla, and Paige can tell me what a horrible person I am publicly.”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“Sure.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“I’m agreeing with you,” he chuckled, enjoying the way her defensiveness flared on instinct. It meant she cared. It meant she wanted to believe in something good.

She was quiet again, and he could almost picture her biting her lip, debating whether or not to let him into her world, even in the smallest of ways.

“What school do you work at?” he asked gently.

“You don’t have to show up,” she countered quickly, almost too quickly. He could hear the nerves creeping in, the instinct to keep a wall up. “How about we talk on Tuesday night?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily, not wanting to push. “But the offer still stands—for the extra set of hands and dinner.” He hesitated for only a moment before adding, softer this time, “And thank you, Constance. I mean it. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

There was a long pause, and then he heard it—the slow, heavy sigh of someone making a decision they weren’t sure they were ready for but wanted to be brave enough to take.

“Bowie,” she murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“You asked what school—I work at Bowie Elementary.”

His heart swelled at the admission, the small but significant act of trust.

“You got it,” he said just as softly, committing the name to memory. It wasn’t just a school. It was a step toward her. A step toward the life he was starting to believe they might actually build. “Get some rest and try to quit worrying.”

“I should say the same to you,” she murmured, and he could hear the exhaustion beneath her words.

He huffed out a small laugh, running a hand over his jaw. “You’ve taken a load off my shoulders,” he admitted. “I’ll sign the contract tomorrow, get a few house listings, and we can look at them together.”

“This is crazy…” she breathed, half to herself.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed without hesitation. “And I understand. It sounds too good to be true, but it strangely is, right?”

“It does feel that way,” she admitted. “And I keep waiting for something or someone to jerk the carpet out from under me.”

Keith closed his eyes, his grip tightening on the phone. He understood that feeling. He’d lived in that uncertainty for too long himself.

“No carpet,” he promised gently. “It might be cheap flooring beneath our feet, but we’re about to upgrade, dear wife-to-be… so all you need to do tonight is sleep and decide if you want carpet, wood, or marble floors in your new house.”

Her laughter came then, soft and throaty, and he swore it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Get some sleep, Keith,” she murmured. “You sound ridiculous.”

“I might be,” he admitted with a grin. “Sweet dreams, Constance.”

The call ended, but he didn’t move. He simply sat there, staring at the ceiling, the phone pressed against his chest as if holding onto it would make this all more real.

“I’m getting married,” he whispered to the quiet room, his own disbelief settling over him like a weighted blanket. He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head.

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