Page 145 of Falling Into Forever
“Don’t listen to them,” Lena says gently. “Ask her from your heart. Whatever makes sense. Make it personal to the two of you.”
“It’s a lot of pressure,” James adds while folding one of the tables we carried out for food.
“It is?”
“I would lean heavily on Lena’s advice here, Dante.” Adam pushes his glasses up his nose with nothing but pure concentration on his face. “None of us are married, and whatever they say they’ve probably learned from reality TV.”
I sink into an abandoned Adirondack chair. “There has to be a grand gesture?”
“You’re here, Dante. That was the grand gesture,” Adam says, picking up an abandoned paper plate. “You showed up here without knowing if she’d spit in your face, set you on fire, or still be in love with you. Honestly, the odds were not in your favor, and you showed up anyway. The proposal only needs to come from your heart.”
“Yeah, but the ring has to be perfect,” Harrison yells from across the yard. I stand to tell him to shut the hell up before he wakes Saylor, but Grady beats me to it with a hard smack to the back of his head.
“Saylor doesn’t wear a lot of jewelry,” Lena says. “And what she does wear holds a lot of sentimental value for her. It doesn’t have to be the biggest or flashiest ring, but it has to be the right ring—for her.”
All of a sudden, the three burgers I ate tonight are trying to make a comeback.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Grady mutters, dropping heavily into the chair next to me. “You know Sassy. She doesn’t give a flying fuck about any of that. It’s you she cares about. You she loves. She’d marry you with a stupid ring that turns her finger green if that’s what you gave her. Don’t beat yourself up over this. When you find the right ring, you’ll know.”
His words shifted while he was speaking, and I wonder for the hundredth time what happened with his ex-fiancée. Did he pick out the perfect ring? Will he pick out a better one for Lena? Because there’s no doubt in my mind, they’re heading to the altar, but I don’t ever want Lena to be second-best anything.
It’s a conversation we’ll have soon, and judging by how Grady shifts next to me, he’s not looking forward to it.
“You’ll be fine,” he says gruffly, then stands and grabs a bag of trash on his way by.
Moments later, Grady steps onto the porch carrying a sleeping Poppy. He tips his head to me, then he leads Lena down the stairs and around the house. The rest of our guests follow shortly behind them while I stay staring at the stars.
How do I make you mine, my sweet and sassy Saylor girl?
* * *
Saylor
“Areyou sure this is a good idea?” I ask for the hundredth time as Poppy spins in circles around us.
“We’ll only be gone for an hour,” Dante promises.
Doesn’t he know how many catastrophes can happen in an hour? What if she falls down the stairs or cuts her finger open, trying to peel an apple? Do four-year-olds peel apples? What if she falls off the toilet and hits her head or eats laundry soap? That’s a thing. I saw it on the news. I would never have eaten a soap pod, but kids today are different.
“Saylor?”
I frown at Dante. Obviously, he’s said my name a few times, but I’m not sure if I’m bitchy or scared yet, so he gets the frown.
“One hour. Lena will sign her paperwork for the salon, and I’ll sign the lease for next door. Grady has it all ready for us. One hour.”
“What if I’m not ready?”
“You are.”
“What if something happens and I don’t know how to handle it?”
“You will, and we’ll have our phones,” Lena says gently.
“Aren’t you afraid I’m going to break your baby?” I can tell they want to laugh at me, and the only reason they don’t is because fear is escaping through my pores and it shines brightly on my clammy face. If my words hadn’t alerted them to the fact that I’m completely terrified, the fanning of my armpits would have.
“No, Saylor. I’m not afraid you’ll break my four-year-old. You’ve spent plenty of time with her. I trust you. You need to trust yourself.”
“I ate pudding for breakfast,” I blurt. “That’s not a responsible thing for a babysitter to do.”
