Page 95 of Callback
She laughed, opening the next gift—a Snickers bar. “Burritos, Doritos, Snickers…” She got it now and as she tore into the next gift, she was shaking her head. “And M&Ms.”
BDSM. Mom and Dad still seemed clueless across the room. But I wasn’t finished. “Keep digging. There’s more.”
“More than all this?” Marly asked, waving around the junk food. “You spoil me, Jude Fisher.” She dug in and pulled out the final wrapped gift and sighed as she opened it. “A planner,” she whispered, hugging it to her chest. “Thank you.”
I leaned over, kissing her. “I couldn’t let the tradition fade away. I hope you’re okay with someone other than your dad carrying it out.”
“I couldn’t be happier.”
“There’s more…”
“More?”
My pulse kicked up. God, I love this girl. The fact that she was happy with a few bags of junk food and a planner as her Christmas gifts was reason enough to spend a lifetime with her. She didn’t expect thousands of dollars of gifts. She didn’t expect any gifts. Time together was gift enough for her—and it only made me love her that much more. “Open it up to today’s date,” I instructed.
She gave me a smirky side-eye. My racing pulse could now officially win the Kentucky Derby. I slid my hand into my pocket, wrapping my fingers around the velvet brocade box. My stomach was tight with nerves and I ground my teeth together as she did what she was told. Stickers fell out of the marked page. Wedding planning stickers. And there on December 25th, I had scribbled the words:
Marlena Taylor, will you marry me?
Dropping to one knee in front of her, I pulled out the box, flipping the lid open to reveal her mom’s antique engagement ring that Omar had helped me sneak out of her jewelry box in her bedroom.
My hands trembled as I knelt there, holding the open ring box. Her expression was surprisingly calm, blue eyes glistening. “Marlena Taylor, when we met, my heart wasn’t supposed to race like it did. I wasn’t supposed to kiss you. I wasn’t supposed to love you. But I did. You brought sunlight back into my dark, shaded world. My whole life, I’d been chasing the wrong dreams until I met you. From the moment I saw you, my gut told me you were the one. That I could love you. And so, for the first time in my life, I’m listening to it. Will you marry me?”
Her bottom lip trembled, her throat tight, and a blue vein became visible from beneath her alabaster skin. “Do you have a pen?” she asked my Mom.
Startled, my mom scrambled to the side table, handing her a simple ballpoint pen.
Marly set the planner in her lap, scrolling through dates and then scribbled something into the calendar before holding it up for me to see. There on May 29th, she had writtenMr. and Mrs. J. Fisherand scribbled a heart around it.
“Does this date work for you?” she asked, sniffling.
I recognized the date as her parent’s anniversary. She could have asked for a wedding this afternoon and I would have said yes. “Any day that ends in ‘y’ works for me, Poppy.”
“Then yes. My answer is yes,” she squeaked, tears sliding down her cheeks.
I slipped the ring on her finger. The same ring she’d been wearing when we first met. The same ring that had symbolized a fake relationship and a world of lies, now represented our burgeoning marriage. And it couldn’t be more perfect.
We both stood and Marly slung her arms around my neck, kissing me.
My mom draped the wedding dress across the chair. “Something tells me you might want to try this on today.”
Marly gasped. “You would let me wear it?”
“Let you?” Mom asked. “Sweetie, you’refamilynow.”
Marly’s eyes drifted shut and more tears spilled across her wet, spiked eyelashes, falling down her cheeks. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I’ll always be your sunlight, as long as you’re my shady tree.”
“Always, Poppy. Always.”
