“I always enjoyed when they would die by crushing,” my dad piped in. “They used to put them on this block, and a rather large slab of weight was put on top of them where they would slowly add more and more weight until he was crushed to death.”
“How about the Brazen Bull?” my sister suggested. “That one sounds cool. The person is put into an iron statue of a bull. Then the bull has a fire lit under it where the person is slowly cooked alive.”
My girl burst out laughing.
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this while I’m having my vagina sewn up.”
My lips twitched in amusement, and I looked from her to my girl and back.
When I looked up one more time it was to find Hastings’ eyes on me.
The last six months we’d done a whole lot of soul searching.
It hadn’t been easy by any means.
But I was so fucking glad that I was here to help her when she needed me the most.
I took our girl over to her mama and slowly started to unwrap her.
I had this all planned out, down to the fuckin’ onesie.
“Look at our girl’s shirt,” I ordered her.
She frowned but slowly started to unwrap our baby and reveal her shirt that I’d had the nurse dress her in.
When her eyes finally once again met mine, she said, “Who are you calling a lint licker, you cootie queen?”
Then, with the diamond ring that her father had married her mother with, I dropped down on one knee and looked at her.
“Hastings Hughes,” I said. “I know that the last nine months have been very hard for you, but I want you to take a leap of faith with me. I want to be at your side for the rest of your hard times, and all of your good. I want to marry you. I want you to have the same name as me and our daughter. I want to grow old with you. I want to be your book boyfriend inspiration. I want you to post silly photos of me on your Instagram and make me cringe with embarrassment. I want it all with you.”
“Yes.” Hastings covered her face with her hand, and I pried it away to slip the ring onto her finger. “You are the weakest link. Goodbye.” She grimaced. “Fuck, ignore that!”
She only cried harder.
“Say hi to your readers, Hastings,” Suzanne cried. “We’re live!”
“My cooch better not be anywhere in that frame!” Hastings cried.
“Over here, Mr. Hot SWAT Cop.”
I looked over to see Suzanne holding her phone aimed my way.
Hastings’ cooch was luckily way out of the frame.
“Smile.”
I winked instead.
***
Two hours later
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