Page 148 of Falling Into Forever
“Have you come up with a proposal plan yet?” she asks, and I get it, her need to change the subject. Trent will always be a painful memory for us both.
Now it’s my turn to sigh. “No. Nothing seems right. I’ve been carrying the ring around in my pocket for a month because I’m nervous she’ll find it otherwise, but every time she hugs me, I’m afraid she’ll feel it.”
“You’ll know when the time is right.”
I pull into the driveway and turn off the car. Lena spoke to Saylor an hour ago when she told her we were running late, but I’m anxious to get home to her.
“The house is standing. I’m sure they did okay.” Lena jokes while I walk faster than normal toward the house. “Dante, I’m sure they’re fine.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they are.” But I still take the stairs two at a time.
It’s silent when I reach the door at the top. I peer at Lena over my shoulder, but she’s totally unfazed.
I open the door to enter, and my heart rate races when the house remains silent.
Lena taps me on the shoulder and points to the sofa where Saylor’s toes poke out at the end. I shrug and tiptoe toward her. The air wooshes from my lungs at what I find.
Saylor is fast asleep on her back with one arm bent over her face, while the other one wraps protectively around Poppy, who is passed out on top of her. Poppy may never understand the concept of personal space.
My lip twitches, and my heart leaps into my throat. The two girls who are my entire world are sleeping like peaceful little angels. I lean in closer.
Is that…? Do they…?
I tilt my head toward them and smile when Lena tries to suppress a laugh beside me.
Saylor has a sparkly heart stuck to her face, and glitter covers every inch of them as they sleep. My gaze falls to the coffee table, where an explosion of pink and purple everything is spread out in no specific order.
Lena walks around the sofa and holds up a purple piece of foam with a photo of Saylor and me at an amusement park stuck to it. We were seventeen and eighteen in that picture. She lifts another one, this time pink, and it holds a recent photo of Poppy, me, and Saylor.
I’m shaking my head when her pull calls me to her. Saylor observes me with glassy eyes. She’s not grumpy, but she’s not necessarily happy either.
It takes me a long time to decipher the expression on her face, but when I do, a sense of calm wrapped in love washes over me—she’s content, and in Saylor’s world, that’s the best kind of way to be.
Lena gently lifts Poppy from Saylor’s chest, and a rainbow of sparkles falls to the floor.
Saylor shrugs. “That shit gets everywhere,” she whispers. Then she holds up her right hand. She’s pressing her thumb and forefinger together, and her cheeks flush as I watch her. Sitting up slowly, she says, “We accidentally superglued my fingers together.”
I openly gape at her. She’s not serious. But taking her hand in mine, I chuckle because she really did.
“Nail polish remover,” Lena suggests. “I’ll take her home.”
I kiss Poppy’s head.
“Thank you for watching her. It takes a lot to knock her out like this. Maybe you should babysit more often,” Lena says with a wicked smile.
I’m pleasantly surprised when Oscar doesn’t scowl in reply.
“We kind of had fun. But I could do without all the glitter next time.”
Lena laughs, and Poppy stirs. “Wub you, Auntie.” Her lashes only flutter for a second, but her words hit Saylor hard, and she bites her trembling lip.
I kiss Lena’s cheek and walk her to the stairs. “Congrats,” I say. “I’m proud of you, Lena.”
She dips her chin to her chest and chokes out a thank you before heading out to her car.
When I hear the clash of wood and metal of our screen door, I turn toward Saylor, who has never looked more beautiful.
“What the hell am I supposed to do about my fingers?”
