Page 107 of One More Made Up Love Song
He gives my message a thumbs up, then sends a reply.
Freddie
Can we eat together when I get back?
Ivy
Sure. Thai food?
Freddie
I’m craving cheese curds.
Ivy
On it.
Practically speaking, I could let Freddie’s new assistant pick up two mushroom and Swiss burgers with fries and extra sides of cheese curds. But sometimes, it’s fun to do it just because I can.
Because taking care of Freddie makes me happy.
Because he’s mine to take care of in the first place.
Once we’re back at the house, I put Freddie’s food in the warming oven, then change into pajamas. My parents try to wait up for him, but they’ve got an early drive in the morning, so they head to bed, and Carina does the same.
When Freddie finally makes it home, I’m the only one still up, sitting at the kitchen island reading a book.
He leans down and presses a kiss to my lips. “Hi.”
He must have showered at the venue, because he’s cleanand in fresh clothes. “Hi,” I say. “Are you hungry?” I stand, motioning for him to take my barstool, then I move around the island to retrieve our food.
I slide his across to him, then retrieve a water bottle from the fridge, opening it for him just like I always have in the past. I move around the island so I can sit down beside him, and he holds his hand up to take the bottle, like we’re doing a dance we’ve done a thousand times before.
As soon as the bottle is in his hands, he looks at me over his shoulder. “Marry me?” he says.
My first impulse is to roll my eyes. How many times has Freddie made this joke? But then I see his expression, and I freeze.
“What?”
He puts his water bottle down and spins to face me. “Marry me,” he says, his voice low.
I swallow against the knot forming in my throat. “Are you serious?”
He shrugs. “Ididsay the next time I asked you, I’d be asking for real.”
I take a steadying breath. “Freddie, it hasn’t even been two months since we made things official.”
“I know. But we’ve been working together—living together—for five years. We know everything there is to possibly know about each other. And we’re in love. What else do we need to know?”
I lift my hands to my cheeks and look into his eyes. The logical side of my brain wants to protest. But he’s right. We probably know each other better than most couples do when they get engaged. This new part of our relationship doesn’t feel new so much as it feels like we finally clicked into what we were always meant to be.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say yes,” I whisper. “But okay. Let’s get married.”
He grins and tugs me forward, pulling me into his arms, where he kisses me long and slow.
“Did you plan this proposal?” I ask when he finally pulls away. “That’s why you asked for a burger? Because it’s your favorite thing to eat on the road?”
“I absolutely did.”
