Page 84 of Dirty Roxie
I wrap my arms around her waist from the side and nuzzle her neck while we walk. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think it’s going to take a lot of attention on your part.”
“I’m a good attention payer,” I state.
She giggles as she steps up on our front porch, turning back to me, now being at eye level. “I have a question for you.” Her voice is suddenly serious.
“Ask me anything,” I tell her. “I’m an open book.” Because we agreed. No more secrets. Ever.
“Do you ever think about marrying me?” Her eyes blinking and head cocked, as though she’s just asked if I prefer pepperoni or sausage on my pizza instead of something monumental and life changing.
“All the time,” I answer honestly.
“Oh.”
I can tell she wasn’t expecting that answer.
“Why haven’t you asked?”
“I guess I was waiting for the right time,” I tell her.
“This isn’t the right time?” She gestures to her stomach. Where my future son or daughter is growing. Something that amazes me every time I think about it.
So, I do it.
I drop to one knee, take her hand in mine, and start the speech that I’ve had bouncing around in my head forever. “Quinn, I can’t imagine a life where I’m still breathing and you’re not in it. My days need to begin and end with seeing your beautiful face for me to feel complete. There is nothing I won’t do to ensure your happiness, to make sure you feel loved and treasured every single day. I want to make your dreams come true. To be the one who makes you laugh and feeds you too much pizza. Who warms your feet when they’re cold. The man who stands by your side in good times and in bad. One you are proud to call your own. I want to spend my life making yours worth living. Would you do me the honor of making me the luckiest man in the world by agreeing to marry me?”
Tears stream down her face. “That was beautiful. Did you just think of that all on your own?”
“Nah, I’ve been working on it for a while.”
“You have?”
“I have.”
“It was perfect,” she sobs. Planting sloppy kisses all over my face. Everywhere but my lips.
“You’re perfect,” I tell her, capturing her mouth with my own, kissing her until we’re both breathless.
“Do I get a ring?”
“Do you want a ring?”
“Of course I want a ring!”
“As you wish,” I tell her, stealing the line from her favorite movie. I pull the ring from my pocket, the same one I’ve been carrying with me for weeks, waiting for just the right moment to ask her.
“Ohmigod.”
I take her shaking hand in mine and push the ring on her finger. Pulling a piece of pocket lint off the pink, heart-shaped diamond as I go.
“Oh, I love it,” she squeals. “I can’t believe you did this. How did I not know?”
Her enthusiasm is infectious. It may not have gone exactly how I wanted it to, but I still surprised her.
“Does Daria know?” she asks as we go into the house.
“Nope.”
