Page 16 of Grumpy Girl and Amaryllis

MARI

One YearLater

“Ouch!” Croix grunts.

“I told you to use one of the plastic needles!” I call out from the kitchen.

He’s threading popcorn onto string with the kids to make an outdoor tree for the birds and animals. I told him to use the child-safe needle, but he’s choosing to be the big, strong…and sometimes stubborn…man.

“Mari, I’m really bleeding. I need your help.”

Oh, crap.

I stop stirring the chili and check the cinnamon rolls one last time. It’s a combination my Nebraska grandparents brought into our lives. The savory and sweet are perfect together—kinda like Croix and me.

Turns out our age difference…not such a big deal to anyone but me—in the beginning. Now, I don’t even think about it. He’s mature beyond his years and sometimes I think he’s more adult than I am.

Until he pokes himself and is bleeding all over our beige carpet.

“Coming!” I grab the First Aid kit from the cabinet, but when I turn into the living room, I drop it and my hand covers my mouth.

Standing there are Cali and Quill, holding their baby girl Daisy, Floryn and Perry, Delia and Joel, holding their baby boy, and Zetty and Henry. Noel isn’t here, but someone has to be manning theDirty Hoes Plants & Décorstore…right?

And there in front is Croix down on one knee, flanked by Ash and Iris on either side.

“What’s going…on?” My chest hiccups between words.

“Mari, this last year has been the best of my life, and I’ve had really bad ones, so I know what’s good and what isn’t.” Croix’s eyes gloss like mine, maybe more. “I love you with every fiber of my being and I want us to be together for the rest of our lives.”

I walk forward and fall to my knees. I’ll never make him beg for anything. We are equals.

“I love you.”

“Marry me?”

I nod. “Yes.”

The room erupts and babies start crying.Oops.

We stand and he slips a rock that will make Dave’s eyes bug-out on my finger.

“It’s my grandmother’s,” he says. “I know what family means to you, and I want you to know that you are my family.”

His lips press to mine, our salty tears mixing on our cheeks.

I hear champagne popping behind us as he swings me around.

Our home, a house we own together already, has a huge bay window that’s filled with three levels of plants. And on the bottom, in the center, is the amaryllis that he bought last year.

He has babied and cared for that plant every day, giving it the appropriate down time when it needed it. Just like me.

And now we’re blooming.

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