Forgiving Lies
Page 59

See? I was crazy. This is how fourteen-year-olds in puppy love think. Not twenty-one-year-olds who, honest to God, a few months ago couldn’t have cared less if they ever got married. My rational side started spouting off divorce rates and the increase in those rates when marriage happens so quickly . . . but then I thought about my parents. They’d met and were married within four months and loved each other fiercely up until the end. Was it still possible to find that kind of love?
The door opened and Kash walked out carrying two bowls of pasta. Handing one to me, he pulled the other chair up closer and sat down in front of me. Grabbing both my ankles in one of his hands, he extended my legs and set my feet down on his lap as he got comfortable.
“What were you thinking about so hard when I walked out?”
Er . . . nothing I want to share with you right now. “I’m sad to be going back. I’ve had a really good time with you here.”
He raised an eyebrow as he chewed some of his food and waited until he could swallow to respond. “So you only have a good time with me when we’re here?”
I nudged his stomach with one of my feet and he smirked at me. “No, it’s just been nice. No work, no Candice, no pancakes . . .”
“You love pancakes. Don’t lie.”
“Not as much as some people, apparently.” Rolling my eyes, I snuggled deeper into my chair and took a bite of food.
Kash was quiet throughout the rest of dinner; he didn’t look at me, just stared out at the scenery like I had been doing before he’d joined me. We could sit in comfortable silence or even spend hours together with him on one side of the room playing his guitar and me on the other writing to my parents. But this wasn’t comfortable; it was weighted. I knew he wanted to say something, but I also knew he would say it whenever he was ready. So I finished my dinner and waited until he was. Sometime after he’d set his bowl down on the patio, he turned to me, and the depth in his gray eyes startled me.
“I’ve missed pancakes. But I’ll miss being married to you more.” Without another word, he moved my legs to the ground, grabbed both our bowls, and kissed my forehead before going back into the villa.
I was frozen. My heart had stopped and I wasn’t sure whether it had started back up again or not. How had he taken something as asinine as pancakes and turned it into a beautiful statement? But I knew right then I had my answer. It was definitely still possible to find that kind of love.
And I’d found it in him.
I stood and walked out onto the grass a ways to enjoy the night for a little longer and think about this revelation without his too-knowing eyes on me. Not two minutes later, his arms were wrapping around my waist and his lips were on my shoulder.
“I want you to be my wife, Rachel.”
My body froze but my heart began racing. What was he saying? “I thought I already was,” I said teasingly, and forced out a light laugh.
“No, uh, I don’t want this to end here. I—” He sighed and turned me so I was facing him. His darkened eyes searched mine and he shook his head marginally. “I get it, this is crazy. But I want this with you, what we’ve had this weekend. I don’t want it to end, tomorrow or ever. I want you, forever.”
“Logan . . . what?”
“Marry me.”
My mouth popped open and every rational thought that was screaming at me was quickly shut up when I saw the love he had for me pouring out of him. My head shook negatively for a split second before my mind realized that was the wrong direction and I furiously nodded. “Y-yes.” Oh my God, I can’t even figure out what word I’m supposed to say right now!
“Yes?” he asked in shock, and gripped my shoulders in his hands.
“Yes!”
Crushing my body to his, he captured my mouth and kissed me through our smiles. “You’re going to marry me?” he asked somewhat breathlessly, and kissed me harder. “You’ll be my wife?” I couldn’t respond against his forceful kisses so I just nodded again and he smiled. “I love you, so much.”
“I love you too, Logan.”
13
Rachel
I FELT A body slip into bed behind me and instantly knew it wasn’t Kash. It was much too small, definitely smaller than my own . . . and the second her arms went around mine I knew exactly who it was. I patted at one of her hands and heard her sigh.
“You’re awake then?” Candice asked in a shaky voice.
“Yeah, I’m up.”
“Can’t believe it’s already here.”
“I know.” It was August nineteenth. It was a Saturday, not that the day of the week mattered; it just happened to be the day it fell on this year. The four-year anniversary of my parents’ death. I continued to stare blankly at my clock as the minutes ticked by and laughed softly. “Now, girls,” I said, imitating my mom’s voice perfectly, “how are you going to get guys to notice you if you spend all weekend in bed?”
Candice’s body shook with laughter and a happier sigh sounded behind me. “But, Rebecca, the sun isn’t even up. All the cute guys are still asleep. Go away,” Candice whined.
I mimicked throwing open the curtains, like my mom always would after Candice and I would complain. “Oh, they are?! Perfect! Then we can do the unattractive things now before they wake up.”
Candice rolled out of bed and threw the comforter off me. “Ready for the unattractive things, Rach?”
“Meet you in three!”