The front door opened and my mum walked briskly into the kitchen, pausing as she caught sight of us.
Checkmate.
“Marry me.”
Mum gasped in delight, and Amy’s eyes closed in defeat.
Then her lips tipped up just a fraction.
“Marry me,” I whispered again, pulling her face toward mine.
“Are you sure?” she whispered back, opening her eyes. “Absolutely sure? This isn’t a game Patrick Gallagher, you can’t just change your mind.”
“I’m more sure of dis den I’ve ever been of anyt’in’.”
Her eyes shifted from side to side, searching for something in my gaze, and I knew when she’d found whatever she’d been looking for. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll marry you.”
I heard my mum clapping her hands together gleefully, but I couldn’t focus on anything but Amy’s flushed cheeks and excited eyes.
I kissed her hard, pushing my lips against hers as I pressed my tongue between her teeth. I ignored the fact that we had an audience and were standing in my mother’s kitchen. Nothing mattered but her.
I inhaled deeply, taking in her scent and the slight smell of the oats she’d been soaking in as one of her hands left my arm and wrapped around the back of my head. Her nails dug into my scalp as I stood taller and pulled her with me until her feet barely touched the ground.
I wanted her to remember how she felt at that moment— loved wholeheartedly, yet perched precariously on her toes and leaning on me for balance as I controlled our movements.
Chapter 17
Amy
“You’re still leaving?” I knew I was gaping like a fish, but I had a hard time trying to school my features. I was blindsided. We’d only just decided to get married, and I’d thought we’d have longer—that I’d have longer—to just bask in the excitement.
“I’ve still got responsibilities, love. More so now den ever.”
Patrick continued packing his small duffel, pulling t-shirts and socks from the bottom drawer of the dresser we’d been sharing.
“But I thought—” My words broke off as I realized how ridiculous I’d been. Of course he hadn’t been leaving to get away from me. How self-important I’d been to assume that.
“I’ve only got a few more classes before I’m finished. It’ll go by quickly, especially while yer finishin’ up yer own studies and plannin’ for our weddin.’ ” He glanced up at me with a grin, and I couldn’t help but mirror it.
We’d been discussing our plans most of the night, cuddled up on the couch while Peg knit in a chair next to us. It didn’t seem real yet, the idea of being married. Where would we live? What would it be like to fall asleep next to Patrick and wake up the same way? Would sex be as awesome as I’d been imagining, or was the all the hype just bogus posturing?
I had a thousand questions and very few answers, but I couldn’t help but be excited. I was getting married. Married. I’d never again feel like a guest who’d overstayed her welcome. I’d belong to Patrick. He’d belong to me.
“I’ll be home again in a few weeks. Mum says dat she’s sure Fadder Mark will be anxious to get de deed finished and he’ll probably let Kevie do the ceremony, especially since ye’ve been sleepin’ in me bed for so long already,” he commented with a sly look as he zipped up his bag. “Ye’ve less den a mont’ to find a dress and some sexy undergarments.”
“Less than a month,” I said quietly to myself as I dropped to the edge of the bed. “It feels so far away and so soon at the same time.”
“I’d marry ye tomorrow,” he answered quietly, sitting next to me and taking my hand in his. “Dis’ll give ye time to be certain.”
“I am.”
“We’ll see.”
I laid back against the cool quilt, dragging him with me until we were lying side by side with our feet hanging of the edge of the bed. I could feel the heat of him from my knee to my shoulder, and for once I didn’t feel the urgency to connect our bodies more fully. I was happy to be just breathing the same air as him and clasping his fingers between mine.
“Where will we live?” I asked dreamily, rolling my head to the side so I could watch him. “How many children will we have?”
“Here for now, I suppose, dough I’ll be back and forth from Uni for a while.” He squeezed my fingers between his own. “I’m sorry I’ve not more to give ye yet.”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s not, but I promise ye, some day ye’ll have everyt’in’ ye want. Once I’m done wit’ school, I’ll find some job—maybe teachin’—and we’ll move far from dis place. Get us a house wit’ a garden where ye can lie in the sun and bloom like de roses.”
“What about Peg?” I loved this game we were playing. I wanted to know all of his dreams, all of the things he imagined for us. I wanted, for once, to picture a happily ever after.
“We’ll take her wit’ us. Perhaps I’ll be hired in Scotland and we can bring her dere for a while.”
“She’d love that.”
“She would.”
“She could babysit our kids while we go on romantic dinners.”
“Keep dem overnight so I can fuck ye in every room of our house.” His thumb began to trail over my fingers, never hesitating over the missing ones, as if he didn’t even notice them anymore.