Page 124 of Vivacity
He kisses me, and I lose myself to the moment. Kissing him when I know he’ll be my husband is a whole other level of intoxicating. Everything is a whole other level of intoxicating, even being in bed with him. This is how it’ll be, forever and ever.
He pulls away from the kiss but leaves his hands on me. ‘I haven’t even got you a ring—I didn’t want to rush it and grab something I wasn’t sure about.’
‘Hey. You built me a semantic database to make my weird little brain happy. Nothing sayseverlasting lovelike that. Who needs a ring?’
‘I love your weird little brain. It’s incredible.’ He kisses my nose. ‘And you’ll get a ring. A very big one. For now, maybe you can wear your stack on your left hand.’
I look down as he eases my gorgeous, shiny stack off my right hand and slides it reverently onto my left. Our eyes lock.
‘You’re seriously good at choosing rings. I have high expectations.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’ He clears his throat. ‘There was one more thing I wanted to say. I—we can have a long engagement, if you like. I walked away from you for months, and you’ve been amazing about it. I didn’t want you trekking out here to meet us and then leaving not knowing that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’ His grey eyes are so soft, so loving. ‘But I also know… that I’m still a work in progress. You’re in such great shape, mentally. I’ve made strides, but I might not be husband material just yet. We can wait if?—’
I put a hand over his mouth. ‘No. Stop it right there. We’ve had this conversation, remember? You’re not broken, you’re not damaged. You are whole and perfect and wonderful, and it will be the privilege of my life to marry you. The second youthrew away everything for Jamie, I knew you were it for me. Understand?’ I remove my finger and smile at him.
He nods, his eyes growing wet. ‘I’m going to keep working on myself.’
‘Fine. But do it for yourself, not for me.’
‘I will. I’ve grown to enjoy it, actually. It feels like I finally have some control over myself.’
I grin at the C-word. ‘The right kind of control. The good kind.’
‘Yeah.’ He hooks a hairy leg over me and tugs me right against him, yawning. Poor guy with his young, insatiable fiancée. I’ve exhausted him. We lie like that, in each other’s arms, and I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. I’ve finally found my forever place in the world, and it’s beautiful.
When I’m almost asleep, he speaks, his voice slurred with tiredness. ‘I meant to say, I’ve been reading one of those Enneagram books you gave me for Christmas. It’s good stuff. I think I might be an Eight? What do you think?’
Epilogue
TWO YEARS LATER
‘You’re so amazing with her,’ Soph tells Jamie as he bounces his six-month-old sister, Lola, on his lap, holding her under her arms. ‘Look! She adores you.’
Lola’s gummy beam is dazzling as she stares, bewitched, at her brother. Her tiny hands make grabby fists as she attempts to reach for his hair, his ears—whatever she can get hold of—but every time he bumps her on his thighs, her tiny bare feet flail, and she cackles her deep belly laugh.
The sound of my baby daughter’s laugh may just be the best thing in the world. I have videos and voice notes full of it. I’ll never, ever get over it.
Lola is her mother through and through—a ray of sunshine, genuinely captivated by everyone she meets, and determined to seize the maximum pleasure from every moment.
She’s already a wonderful teacher.
My son tears his eyes from her for a second to glance up at me. ‘She’s so sweet. And it’s good that she can sit up now.’
‘It’s very good,’ I agree. Now, Soph and I can prop her up on a rug without constantly worrying that she’ll keel over sideways. It makes entertaining her far easier—and lower maintenance.
‘Can you take her for a sec? I want to grab another pizza.’
‘Of course, mate. It’s your party. Go for it.’ I hold out my arms, but instead of handing her over immediately, he buries his face in her soft golden neck and lets out a loud raspberry. Her little body freezes as her mouth goes comically wide with delight and she lets out her signature fishwife cackle.
Jamie comes up for air, grinning like he’s just won an Olympic one-hundred metres. I know how he feels, because I could blow raspberries on Lola’s skin all day long for the rest of my life and never get bored.
‘Just one more.’ Banding one arm securely around her middle, he holds out her tiny arm and goes for a raspberry right in the crook of her elbow. Right on cue, Lola honks.
‘Her laugh is as classy as her mother’s,’ I observe drily to my wife.
‘Sounds about right.’ Soph bends down to take our daughter, but I beat her to it, grabbing Lola and pulling her tightly into my arms so I can smother her soft cheeks and shock of black hair in kisses as my wife singsObsessedby Mariah Carey under her breath.
She may have a point.
