His lips curve up. “You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”
“Of course I do. But it was only just over a week ago that you said at dinner with Orson and Scarlett that you didn’t think marriage was for you.”
“I know. I’d spoken to my father, and he’d mentioned getting divorced, and I was still reeling from that. I know it seems sudden. But it just feels… right.”
I lift his hand and kiss his fingers. “It’s a very sweet thing to say. But let’s just take some time to think about it, okay?”
He doesn’t look angry, or upset. Instead, he just kisses me again, then says, “All right. But I’m not going to change my mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kingi
“I’m going to take Bearcub out and lock up for the night,” I tell Chessie. “The bathroom’s all yours.”
“Okay, thanks.”
We get up, and she goes into the bathroom, while I pull on a pair of trackpants, open the door, and go out into the hallway.
I walk quietly down to Thea’s room and go inside. She’s out for the count, curled on her side with her hand under her face the way you see angels sleep. Bearcub lifts his head as I approach, and I say, “Shh,” as I pick him up. He doesn’t make a peep, and I kiss his head as I carry him out to the living room.
“You’re all warm and snuggly,” I murmur in his ear, and he licks my face as I open the sliding doors and take him out. “Thank you for the kiss.” I put him on the grass, and he wanders off for a sniff.
Sliding my hands into the pockets of my trackpants, I look up at the sky. The security lights have come on, so it’s difficult to see much, but the rain clouds from earlier have cleared, and I can see the moon, almost full, hanging to the west like a tossed silver ball.
I think you’re attracted by the romantic notion of the big gesture.
I consider Chessie’s words while I watch Bearcub sniffing around. Is she right? Everything else she said is true. It was only just over two weeks ago that I proposed the idea of a fake engagement to Chessie, and now I want to make it real? I can understand why she’s skeptical. It’s a speedy turnaround for a guy who was convinced that marriage wasn’t for him.
I’d always thought proposals and weddings were something that girls wanted because of their romantic nature.For guys, it always seemed as if they were something they had to get through that usually cost a lot of money for little return. To me, a proposal was like Valentine’s Day—a show you put on for everyone else. The wedding was the same; girls like the big dress and being the center of attention for the day. For guys it’s just an opportunity for them to hang out with their mates and get drunk. But then I’d always pictured getting married to someone like Sabrina—a woman I was attracted to, but who irritated the hell out of me after five minutes. I understand marrying because as you grow older it seems sad if you stay single, and I can see the benefits of having a companion at your side beyond the obvious bonus of hopefully regular sex, but committing yourself to one woman like that for the rest of your life? Why, why, oh why would you do that?
But standing there in the cool night air, watching the puppy sniff a flowerpot and then sneeze, I allow myself the thought that I’ve never considered marrying a friend.
It’s as if a whole new world has opened up to me. For the first time I think about what getting married actually means: spending the rest of your life with your best friend. The proposal is the moment you see her face when you tell her that you want to marry her. You get to put a ring on her finger so that every time she looks at her hand, she thinks about you. And every other guy she meets will also see that she’s yours. I can see the attraction of that, caveman that I am.
And the wedding itself is the moment when, after all that waiting, you finally get the opportunity to stand in front of your friends and family and promise to love your girl and be faithful to her for the rest of your lives. Before, the thought terrified me. But now, with Chessie waiting for me in my room, her body warm and soft beneath the covers, I feel uplifted at the thought of having her by my side. In bed and out of it.
Sure, we’ve only been fake engaged for two weeks, but our relationship began long before that. We’ve been friends for twenty years, and the fact that we kissed when we were teens is a sign that we’ve had deeper feelings for each other for a long time. If it hadn’t been for my father…
I frown. Oh, the irony of it. Telling me that I could do better… and then I find out that he cheated on my mother. Anger boils in my stomach at the thought of the years I’ve wasted because of the implication that Chessie was socially beneath me. She’s worth ten of me—no, a hundred… a thousand! I can’t believe I let him convince me not to date her. I’m ashamed of that. I didn’t think I was a snob, but I am, or I was, anyway. She’s helped me see more clearly, and for that, if nothing else, I’m grateful.
Bearcub has had his pee and is trying to get up the steps, so I pick him up again and take him inside. I lock the sliding doors and turn off the lights, then take him down to Thea’s room and put him back on the bed with her. He goes over to her and curls up in the crook of her legs again. She doesn’t even stir.
Smiling, I walk out, leaving her door open a little, and go into my room. Chessie is back in bed, looking at her phone, and I wink at her before going into the bathroom.
When I come out, she’s put her phone down and is on her side, head propped on a hand. She watches me take off my track pants, come over to the bed, and climb in beside her. Then she moves up close into my arms, and we snuggle down together.
“I shouldn’t stay the night here,” she says. “Just in case Thea does wake and come looking for me early in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll give it just a little longer.” She nuzzles my neck.
I sigh and kiss the top of her head. “You smell nice.”
“I smell of you. And sex.”
I chuckle. “It’s not the worst combination.”