The Fortunate Ones
Page 63

I laugh as James breaks away and finally turns to Ellie. “Oh, hey, didn’t see you there.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to the refrigerator. “Like hell you didn’t. For that, I’m opening the good wine.”
“Oh yes!” I agree. “You have to. We’re celebrating!”
James glances back and forth between us. “Are we? Why?”
I grin as I announce, “Ellie is going to take my old job and move to Spain!”
“We don’t know that yet,” she points out, opening the cabinet to pull out three wine glasses. From the sound of her voice, I can tell she’s actually going to consider it.
“I think it’s a great idea, Ellie,” James says, maneuvering around the island to uncork the wine. I use the distance as an opportunity to take in the black suit he put on this morning, the suit that does funny things to my insides, even with his tie loosened and his hair a little messy.
“We have something to celebrate as well,” James says. “Did you share our good news, B?”
I glance up to meet his gaze, not even slightly embarrassed at being caught checking him out. “What good news?”
He delivers a devilish grin before turning toward Ellie. “Your sister asked me to marry her last night.”
She squeals, whips around, and nearly drops one of the wine glasses.
My mouth drops open and my face burns scarlet red. “JAMES!”
“Brooke! Did you really? Wait, why are you so red?”
“Because I did not really ask him!”
The incident he’s referring to happened late last night. We were in bed together, tangled in the sheets. We’d already had sex and were supposed to be getting up to shower and get ready for bed, but neither one of us was in a hurry to move. I’d just had the orgasm to end all orgasms—like, I saw my life flash before my eyes—and James had finished moments after, collapsing down half on top of me, half on the bed. My hand was strung through his hair and I was breathing hard against his neck, my eyes still closed. I was surrounded by his scent, his breath, his weight, so overcome by how much I loved him.
“Marry me,” I say on a whim.
He stills and then props his hand beside my head so he can lift himself up enough to look down at me. “What did you just say?”
I don’t bother opening my eyes, but I let a lazy grin spread across my lips. “I think I asked you to marry me.”
“Brooke, open your eyes.”
“No, I can’t. I’m dead. You—that just killed me.”
He strokes his finger along my cheek, and then higher, around the corners of my eyes, trying to convince me to look at him. “Please.”
I sigh and blink my eyes open, reluctant to reenter the world after what just happened between us. His face is only a few inches from mine and I’m shocked to see how wide and vulnerable his eyes are as he stares down at me. “Did you mean that?”
“Marriage?” I ask gently.
He nods, never taking his eyes off me.
Did I mean it?
“A little,” I respond sheepishly. “Does that scare you?”
He shakes his head. “Of course not.”
I rub circles around his shoulder blades, concentrating there for a moment so I have the courage to continue. “I don’t want you to think we have to get engaged right away or anything. I guess I just want you to know I’m ready when you are.”
“We haven’t been together long,” he points out, trying to see where I actually stand on the subject.
I smile. “Martha told me once, ‘When you know, you know.’”
A handsome grin overtakes his features before he dips down and plants a kiss on my lips. When he pulls away, he whispers, “I know.”
I kiss him again. “Me too.”
With that, he finally pushes off of me and pads toward the bathroom in the buff. I ogle his derriere without a care in the world. He might look killer in a suit, but this is definitely how I prefer him. Just before he steps past the doorway, he turns back to look at me over his shoulder with an amused smile.
“Harry will be happy when I tell him.”
Harry the goldfish, our first wedding RSVP.
I frown, trying for my best solemn expression. “I bet the last few years have been really hard for him. Me away in Spain, you moping here.”
He nods in a mock agreement. “You can’t imagine what it’s like being a single dad these days.”
I have to stifle a laugh to stay in character. “I’m sure you’ve done the best you can.”
He grins and tips his head toward the shower. “You coming?”
“In a second.”
He turns and walks away. A moment later, the sound of the shower running filters into the bedroom. I pause, stare at the doorway long enough to make sure he isn’t going to come back, and then crawl toward his side of the bed and pull the top drawer of the bedside table open.
There, in the corner, is the small black velvet box I found the other day while I was cleaning. Inside, nestled tight, I find the antique engagement ring that leaves me breathless. It seems even more flawless than before, twinkling in the low light. I brush my finger across the round diamond, careful not to dislodge the ring from its cushion. My finger itches to try it on; I know it will fit, but it feels wrong to do it without James watching.
“B?” James calls from inside the shower. “Water’s hot!”
I jump, close the black velvet box, and shove it back into its terrible hiding place before scurrying off the bed to join him.
“Coming!” I call back.
Soon, I remind myself, I’ll get to put that ring on and never take it off. I smile at the thought.