Page 70 of The Body Checker

“This is the part where I’d ask you to marry me, but you’re already my wife.”

“No I’m not, I signed the papers.”

He pulls something from his back pocket and hands it to me. It’s our divorce papers, and they’re missing his signature.

“I want to be married to you, Quinn. For real. Not because of Shari, or Daisy, or the courts, but because I love you. I wanted this to be real the first time around, but you said you didn’t want a family, and I was trying to respect that.”

Tears spill from my eyes. “I do want this, Jonah. I love you, too. I just… I was afraid.”

He hugs me tighter, and his thumb brushes over my cheek. “I know, but I’m not like your mother, Quinn. I walked away from hockey practice and I’ll likely be benched the first few games because of it. But I did it to prove to you that you are way more important.”

My heart swells, knowing he did this all for me.

He brushes his lips over mine. “If you want to know the truth, I’ve been in love with you since you were sixteen.”

My eyes go wide. “You’re kidding me?”

He shakes his head. “Nope, but Zander…”

“I kind of figured he knew.” I look him over. “And you’re still in one piece?”

He laughs. “He’s a lover, not a fighter, and he’s happy for us.”

I go up on my toes and press my lips to his. He holds me to him, and when I break the kiss, I say, “I have a confession, too.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been in love with you for a very long time, Jonah. I only acted like I hated you because you treated me like one of the guys.”

“Had to. Bro code and all.”

I roll my eyes at him but I get it. “You should probably know, I spent days making hearts in my journals, putting ‘Quinn loves Jonah’ inside them.”

He laughs hard. “Are you kidding me?”

I shake my head and laugh with him. “I’ll show you someday.”

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

He pulls a ring from his back pocket. “Will you still be my wife?” he asks.

“Yes!” I say, and let loose a big squeal when he picks me up and spins me around.

“Will you help me fill these rooms with kids? I want a big-ass family.”

“So do I,” I say, and he picks me up.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting started.”

“On what?”

“Filling these rooms, of course.”

“Shouldn’t the Body Checker be in Seattle, doing what he does best.”

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