Page 16 of The Only Reason (The Trident Trilogy 2)

Chapter Eight

Millie

San Diego, California

2020

“Do you want to get married?”

We’re sitting on the back porch eating burritos. I’m thinking about how I wished I ordered extra guacamole.

Wait. What did Mason just say?

“What?” I mumble with my mouth still full of beans and cheese.

“Married, Millie. Do you want to get married?” He says it like it’s the most normal question to ask right at this very moment.

“Are you proposing to me, or is this just a general conversation?” I say slowly, trying to give my brain enough time to catch up.

“Which do you want it to be?”

I finally look across the table at him to see if he’s kidding. I’m desperately hoping to see the twinkle that lights up his crystal-blue eyes when he’s teasing me. It’s not there.

“I’m not sure that’s the way it works.” I try to keep my tone casual so it doesn’t reflect the panic that’s starting to surge through my body. “It’s either a proposal or it’s not.”

I’ve only seen his eyes look this intense once, and that was seconds before an enemy force started firing on us. It happened six months ago and only a few weeks after we met. So much has happened since then. Most days it seems like a lifetime ago, but now, with those battle-ready eyes staring at me, it feels like yesterday.

His eyes suddenly soften. From the day I met him, Mason has been able to read my mind. Right now, he’s definitely sensing my panic. “Let me back it up a little,” he says in the soothing tone he uses when he thinks I’m about to overreact to something. It works on me like the sound of the ocean works on most people.

“So not a proposal?” I sigh, relieved at the bullet I just dodged.

“I didn’t say that,” he says gently.

“Mase. We haven’t even known each other a full year. Don’t you think it’s too early to think about marriage?”

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “In the past half year: we met, survived a brutal firefight, took out a terrorist network, moved to the same city, and fell in love. How is anything we’ve done so far on a normal timeline?”

“That’s just it,” I say, pushing my half-eaten burrito away from me. “Nothing we’ve done is normal, so why do we have to get married and be normal? What we have is just as good—if not better—than marriage.”

“So you don’t want to marry me?” He tries to hide his disappointment with a half-hearted laugh.

“Babe, I told you the other day. This has nothing to do with you. I need some time to figure out me—what I want to do—before I can figure out anything else.”

“Yeah. I know. I heard what you said. I thought getting married would give you more solid footing in one area of your life.”

I walk around the table, sit on his lap, and rest my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

“We’ve never talked about marriage before,” I say softly. “I didn’t even know it was something you wanted.”

“Yeah, I want it. I want it with you for sure. You don’t want it?”

“I don’t know. I guess marriage has never been important to me. I haven’t really thought about it much.”

“It seems like a deeper commitment to me. You know? Like we’re locking it in.” His face starts nuzzling my hair. “And if we have kids, I think it’s better for them.”

I sit up quickly, almost falling off his lap. “Wait. So now we’re having kids?”

“I mean, yeah, I want kids. I’m thirty-five. I’d like to have a few kids before I’m too old.”

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