Page 93 of Play the Last Track
I frown, my stomach twisting. Happy for Ivy? Happy for us?
Fuck, I need to lie down.
“Flynn,” I say, gently taking the test from his hands and placing it with the others. “Are you … do you want this? Are you happy?”
Silence envelops us as we stand there, staring at one another. His eyes are darting over my face. He’s searching. He’s reading my emotions, tapping into my thoughts, like he does so well. I’m his open book.
He steps forward again, his hands cupping my cheeks and his thumbs swiping gently over my skin. “I don’t think I have ever felt happier in my entire life. This feeling? It’s pure bliss. It’s euphoric.”
“It is?” I ask weakly, sagging in his arms. He holds me steady, wrapped in his arms.
“Nothing makes me happier than knowing I’m the one you chose to procreate with.”
I scrunch up my nose, trying to hold off the sob that crawls up my throat in pure relief. “Procreate?”
“You and me, Rockstar.” He leans down, kissing me gently. When he pulls back, he whispers against my lips, “We’re having a baby.”
“I thought you might not want one with me.”
“I see the hormones are already kicking in.” He smiles, not letting go. “Because I know you know that’s a wild thought to have when it comes to me wanting you. Babies with you, a future with you. I’ll take it all.”
“You will?”
“Fuck, yes I will.” He kisses me again. “You’re never getting rid of me now, Murphy.”
The heavy weight I felt earlier as I stared at all the blue lines lifts, and the euphoria that he spoke about settles into my skin as though he’s transferring it to me through his touch. His hands drop, tracing the lines of my neck and over my shoulders, down my body until they settle on my waist.
He touches his forehead to mine. “Can I ask you to marry me now? Give you my ring to wear? Or do you want to wait a little longer?”
I rear back as though he’s shocked me with a low current. “What?”
“I mean, I will drop to my knee right this second, but if you want to wait, that’s okay too.”
“You have a ring?” I ask, pushing out of his arms a little and staring at him. What the fuck? “Sincewhen?”
“Since, like, two weeks after you told me you would be my girlfriend for real.” He nods his head like what he’s saying is common information. He smirks, his eyes darting over my face as I shake my head.
“Why the fuck haven’t you given it to me yet?” My voice pitches as I throw my hands, my heart racing. I’m going to kill this man.
“You wanted to wait,” Flynn says, laughing and taking a step toward me, trying to pull me back into his arms. I shake my head and slap his hands away. “Rockstar, you told me you wanted to wait, so I waited. I was just waiting for you to be ready, for you to say you wanted the ring.”
“I—you, what?”
“I would’ve married you that day in the hospital, concussion and bruised bones be damned.”
“I meant like a year.” I throw my hands up. “I meant like eighteen months. I meant like until we had some time to settle in, until you had figured out what was coming after football. I didn’t mean—” I press my hands into my stomach. “Wait until I was pregnant.”
“Oh, baby.” He laughs, shaking his head. He grabs for me again, and when I try to push him away, he doesn’t let me. Instead, he pulls me around, spinning us so he can sit on the stool and position me in between his legs. His fingers find my waist, and he digs in, holding me there. “I’m sorry.”
The fight drains from me instantly, and I sag into him.
“If I’d known you had a time frame in mind, I never would’ve missed it.” He leans forward, his hands coming around my front and resting on my stomach. He splays his fingers over the non-existent bump, his hands warming my body.
“Okay.” I sigh. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”
“You’re allowed. You’re growing my little girl in there.”
“Girl?”
