Page 39 of Love in Mission City: The Shorts

Slowly, he crept into the room, peering over to hone in on my crotch.

My erection lay heavy against my belly and a drop of precum leaked onto the ring which lay just below my navel.

“You sent me a dick pic.”His voice carried a note of wonder.

“I’m also proposing.Keep your eye on the prize.Or should I say the ring?”

Our gazes met.I read the uncertainty, and it hurt my heart.Because it wasn’t uncertainty about me, but uncertainty about himself.Over and over, during the last six months, I’d tried to convince him I didn’t care about what he couldn’t do.

He’d gone so far as to hire a tutor to help him improve his reading.

I knew how hard he tried.I couldn’t convince him I didn’t need him in any way other than the way he was.He was perfect.He was my perfect.

Slowly, he advanced into the room.He eased onto the bed and sat so our hips touched.With exquisite gentleness, he ran his hand from my knee, up my thigh, and across my hipbone to my navel.Reverently, he touched the ring.

“Try it on.”

He did.

To my infinite relief, it fit.

He held up his hand, and the light glinted off the platinum.“Did you get one for yourself?”

I’d spent the entire trip into town debating and the entire trip home waffling between certainty and regret.Finally, I relented.“Top drawer of my nightstand.”

He leaned over to open it and pulled out the box.He flipped it open and grasped the ring.Matching in every way.“I should’ve done this.”

“Impulse buy.”

His expression darkened.

Crap.

“Not buying your ring.”I snagged his hand.“That was a no-brainer.I wasn’t sure whether to buy one for myself, but I want everyone to know we’re together—”

“I don’t think there’s a resident in Mission City who doesn’t know.”

“Still…” I squeezed his hand.“If it’s too soon, we can tuck them away.”

His fist closed around the ring.“No way.Your parents are coming for Christmas.Can we marry then?”

I sputtered.“Like, in two weeks?”

“Yes.”Absolute certainty.

My parents had visited several times since June, and they loved Fritz.My mother loved to feed him, and my father liked to pretend he was interested in getting a motorcycle.At least I hoped he was feigning interest.My mother’d kill him if he actually bought one.

“Sure, Fritz, if that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

Insane for me, though.His business was virtually dead, while I was in the middle of the craziest time of the year.But, for him, I’d do anything.“Okay, let me make some calls.”

His grin went from ear to ear.Slowly, he slid the ring onto my finger.Of course it fit perfectly.“I love you.I know I say it all the time, but I need to say it again.”

“And I echo the sentiment all the time, but sometimes I’m not sure you believe me.”I pushed myself up so I could take his cheeks in my hands.“I love you, Fritz.I always have, and I always will.”

“Even with my terrible taste in music and my love of loud engines?”

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