The list was endless, and each one had ended as badly as the one before it.
“Why are you giving her so many chances to say no?” Archer had asked as we’d waited the night he’d fallen off SH, next to Levi’s hospital bed for Parker to come back with the results of the x-ray.
Slightly out of it with the painkillers he’d been given, he’d slurred, “I want to give her all of her dreams.”
And that’s when he’d given me the proposal of my dreams without even realizing it. He’d still continued trying, though, but I had all that I ever needed and more.
LeviIt was done, she was legally all mine. Her signature was on the piece of paper and I’d gone over everything ten times to make sure nothing had been missed out. Even filing the paperwork for the marriage license, I’d checked it over, woken up at two in the morning to check it again, and had fallen back to sleep with it in my hand in case it disappeared.
But it had all gone without a hitch, and now she was mine for the rest of my life. Her and her sexy thigh socks – which she still wore to bed during the winter. Admittedly, I’d bought her at least five pairs of the things in September to make sure she had enough, but the whole Charlotte and sexy thigh socks package was all mine.
I hadn’t realized that breaking my ass would mean waking up to the happiest Charlotte I’d ever seen, but apparently the words I’d slurred out had been all that she’d needed.
Technically, the first time I’d proposed had been all she’d needed, but I’d kept doing it because I was desperate to not have a failed one for her to remember. Not that you could forget the others, especially because of all the damn videos and photos we now had of all of it. Fucking technology.
Walking past where my sister was reluctantly dancing with Parker, I frowned when I saw how closely he was holding her.
“Yo,” I barked, wedging my arms between them and pushing him away slightly. “Leave space for Jesus, man.”
I was insanely happy, but the glare he was shooting at me just added to it.
Now to find my wife.CharlotteOne year later…
“Bop, bop, bop!”
Putting my milkshake down on the table, I turned and glared at Ariana. “Stop poking my vagina.”
“I’m not poking your vagina, I’m poking the baby’s foot.”
Shooting a pleading look at Bonnie and Dahlia, I sighed when they just shrugged at me.
“I’m thirty-nine weeks pregnant and at the last appointment with my OB-GYN, she said his head was in the ‘good to go’ position. So that wouldn’t be his foot even if it wasn’t my vagina. Which,” I added, leaning closer to her face, “it is.”
Looking horrified, she cried, “Oh my god, what if I got him in the eye?”
“They just do a scan up your cooter at the eye doctor,” Dahlia told her seriously, pulling out her phone. “Here, I’ll make an appointment.”
Seeing how flustered I was getting, Bonnie plucked it out of her hand. “Let’s not wind up the pregnant woman, ladies. She might explode all over us.”
“Explode?” Ariana gasped.
“I won’t explode, and you weren’t poking him in the eye,” I reassured her, but couldn’t help adding, “because you were poking my vagina.”
Unfortunately, as I was saying those last six words, the McDonalds we were sitting in went unnaturally quiet, so everyone heard them and turned to look at us.
“I wanna watch,” a big guy in a red cap yelled, scooting around in his chair so he didn’t miss the show.
“Me too,” another voice shouted, which was soon followed by three more.
Feeling indigestion weaseling its way back into my day, I threw my garbage on my tray and stood up. One by one, the eyes of the men who’d called out to us dropped to the large bulge of my stomach - which was impossible to miss so I didn’t take any offense at them doing this, especially seeing as how there was a leg sticking out of it at that moment.
“Mommy,” a little boy whimpered, launching himself at the woman beside her. “She’s got an alien in her belly.” Giving me a sympathetic smile, she whispered something to him that just made it worse. “I’m not eating here then, I don’t want an alien in my belly.”
Shaking his head, red cap turned back to his meal, but said loudly over his shoulder, “Just to say, I’d still watch.”
“You’re a sick man,” Bonnie growled at him. “I’ll give you a tip: get yourself a woman, treat her like a queen, and then you won’t need the big vat of lube you’ve got waiting for you at home.”
Looking her up and down, he shrugged. “I’d give you more than the tip. You’d get the whole foot long.”