Page 71 of Small Town Daddy

"Alright, everyone!" I raised my glass, cutting through the noise. Conversations quieted, heads turned. Lucy glanced over, curious. God, she was beautiful like this—relaxed, happy, hers.

"First off," I started, clearing my throat when my voice came out rougher than I expected. "Thanks for being here tonight. It means a lot to us. To me."

My grip tightened around the glass, knuckles whitening.

"Marcus?" Lucy’s voice was soft, barely audible over the murmurs, but it cut through the fog. She slipped up beside me, her small hand sliding into mine. A squeeze—firm, grounding. Just like her.

"Sorry," I said, exhaling slowly. "What I’m trying to say is…this house, this night, all of you—it’s more than I ever thought I’dhave again. And Lucy…" I turned toward her, the words catching in my throat. For a second, I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

Her fingers tightened around mine, her eyes searching mine, steady. And somehow, that was enough.

"She's my fiancée." The words came out rough, but sure. I gripped Lucy's hand tighter, raising it so everyone could see the ring dangling from her chain.

The crowd froze for a beat, then chaos erupted. Cheers, claps, and whistles broke out like a dam bursting. Brett let out an ear-piercing whistle, slapping me on the back hard enough to rattle my ribs. Marie shrieked louder than anyone, barreling into Lucy with a hug that nearly knocked her over.

"Finally!" Marie shouted, laughing as she squeezed Lucy like she’d never let go. "I was starting to think you two would keep us all in suspense forever!"

"Marie," Lucy gasped, trying to catch her breath, but smiling wide enough to light up the entire backyard. She glanced at me, her cheeks flushed pink. "Help?"

"You're on your own, sweetheart," I said, smirking.

"Alright, alright, lovebirds!" Brett called, his grin stretching ear to ear. "Save some of that sappy stuff for later. Right now, we need drinks and speeches!"

"Speeches?" Lucy shot him a look that was half panic, half amusement.

"Tradition," Mrs. Henderson chimed in, already dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. "My goodness, you two. What a beautiful announcement."

"To Lucy and Marcus!" Brett raised his beer high, his voice booming.

"To Lucy and Marcus!" echoed the crowd, glasses clinking together under the twinkling lights.

***

The door clicked shut behind Mrs. Henderson, her casserole dish tucked under one arm. Her goodbye lingered in the air, but Lucy didn’t respond. She stood near the archway, fingers toying with the hem of her dress, shoulders curving inward like she was trying to make herself smaller.

"Lucy," I said softly.

Her head tilted toward me, but her eyes stayed fixed on the rug beneath her feet. The spark she’d carried all night had dimmed. That soft look—half-dreamy, half-vulnerable—settled across her face. I knew it well.

"Baby girl," I tried again, stepping closer. My voice dropped lower, steadier. "You ready to call it a night?"

She nodded, barely. Her lips twitched into something like a smile before fading fast.

"Alright," I said, keeping my tone calm. Gentle. "Let’s get you upstairs."

I reached for her hand, and her fingers slipped into mine without hesitation. They were warm, pliant, trusting. The guests’ laughter still echoed faintly from outside as we made our way up the stairs, but the house felt quieter now. Quieter, except for the sound of her uneven breathing.

In the hallway, I paused outside the nursery door, turning toward her. Her eyes flickered to mine, wide and waiting. "Do you need help tonight, Lucy?" I asked, careful. Always careful.

"Uh-huh," she murmured, her voice small. Almost shy.

"Okay," I said, pushing the door open.

The familiar scent of lavender and chamomile greeted us, calming and sweet. I let her hand go just long enough to walk over to the dresser, pulling out her favorite pajamas: soft cotton, pale yellow, with little daisies scattered across them. When I turned back, she was standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, swaying slightly on her bare feet.

"Come here," I said, my voice quiet but firm.

She hesitated for only a moment before crossing the space between us. Her movements were smaller now, slower, like she was shedding the last traces of the evening’s excitement with every step.

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