It can make any skeptic a believer.
Before I leave, we chat about the time and place of the proposal, and I promise to give them more details as I sort them out.
By the door, Terry claps my shoulder one more time. “Son, remember you can come to me with anything. You’ve always been family, and we’re just making it official now.”
“If she says yes.” I grin.
“Something tells me she’ll say yes.” He winks, and I shake his hand again, thanking him for everything.
I walk toward my truck as a new man. A liberated man, ready to make the love of his life his bride.
Finally.
Forty-Three
Clara
Jacob comes into the kitchen with his phone out. “Dad needs me. Can he come pick me up?”
I check my phone and don’t see any missed calls or texts from Dax. Confused, I peer back at Jacob. “Why didn’t he call me to ask?”
“You’re not friends like we are.”
“That’s right. Bro code and all.”
He rolls his eyes. “Can he? Because he’s almost here.”
“He’s coming here now?” I instinctively touch my hair and smooth my ponytail back. Turning to the microwave above the stove, I study my reflection. Hair sticking out. No makeup. I can’t tell from my dark reflection, but I’m pretty sure I also have dirt smudges on my cheeks from working in my yard all afternoon.
“Yes. What’s wrong?”
“I’m not ready,” I mumble and head to the bathroom in Jacob’s room.
“Wait, that’s my room. I don’t have any of your girly stuff for you to get ready.”
“I know, but I need to wash my hands, honey.” I turn the sink on and splash water on my face, then rub the dirt off my cheek. I pull my hair out of my ponytail, then run my fingers through it, using the mirror to smooth it down.
“You never said if I can go or not, and Dad told me to ask you.”
I smile. “Yes, you can go. Just give me a second to fix my hair.”
“Are you trying to look pretty for Dad? Because he doesn’t care.”
I stop. “What?”
“He likes you even in a baggy T-shirt. He doesn’t care if your hair is up or down. He even smiled when you snorted at dinner last night. I thought it was gross, but whatever.”
His words make my stomach flutter.
There’s a knock on the door, and my whole body buzzes.
“He’s here.” Jacob races out of his room to get the door.
“Make sure it’s him before you open it. Use the peephole like I showed you,” I call out after him before his excitement gets the best of him.
“Hey, big guy.” I hear Dax as I round Jacob’s bed. I walk toward his voice like it’s calling to me.
Like it’s a magnet pulling me close.
With hands on my hips, I stand in front of them. “So, what’re your plans for the evening? Not going to be out too late, right?”
“This is an important mission we’re on, and it’s classified,” Jacob says matter-of-factly.
“Oh?” I turn to Dax, who’s in slacks and a sport coat. His button-up is unbuttoned at the top, and my fingers itch to sink into his chest. I toy with the end of my hair, idly. “You look nice.”
“You look like a spy,” Jacob says. “Or a sports agent.”
I’m confused as to why he’s so dressed up. “What’s going on?”
Dax steps inside and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips while Jacob shields his eyes in my periphery. “I promise we won’t be out too late,” Dax whispers in my ear. His simple statement, said in a low, gruff voice, sends heat through my body. He backs up and smirks, obviously knowing the effect he has on me.
I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips.
We’ve been all smiles and coy glances for weeks now, and I can’t get enough of them.
Of Dax.
Of Dax with Jacob.
Of the three of us together.
We’re a family, even if we don’t yet live in the same house or share a last name. Dax stays here more than he does at his own place. We’re a family, and one day, we’ll have another kid or two for Jacob to play with. To fill this house with more laughter and joy.
From the front porch, I wave to them as they descend the steps to the driveway. I wait at the door for them to climb into Dax’s truck and drive away, muttering to myself, “What could they be up to?”
My phone vibrates. Pulling it out of my back pocket, I check my new message.
Dax: Can you pick up Jacob at eight o’clock sharp tonight? And wear that purple dress I like so much. ;)
My brows are furrowed. Dress? Why couldn’t I just go with them?
Me: Text me an address.
Still confused but buzzing with excitement, I head upstairs to shower, then lay the purple dress out. I remember when Sienna talked me into buying it for my third date with Dax. He took me to a nice dinner, then held my hand as we walked through Main Street.
We ended the night at the park, walking through the twinkling lights strung among the trees.
It was a quiet night.
Romantic.
He kissed me beneath the lights like I was his center.
And I indulged.
It’s been a busy week for him at work, and I’ve been swamped with Jacob, work, and house chores.
Dax has only stayed over a couple nights.
These last few days without him have proven that my life is better with him in it, even if it means I only see him at night.
Even if it means missed brunches and late-night dinners.
Because I’m crazy about Dax. Jacob and I both are.
I get dressed with more vigor, my insides fluttering. I switch the curling iron on, then pull my makeup bag out from the drawer. Before I start, I text Sienna to come over—I’m definitely going to need help.
She responds immediately that she’s here already, and when I hear her heels clicking up the stairs, I call out, “How’d you get in?”
“With my key.” She enters my bathroom, holding a key up.
“I never gave you one.”
“Sure you did. You wanted me to have it for emergencies like this one.”
I shake my head. “That never happened.”
“Okay, so I borrowed your spare the first time I was here.”
“You stole a key to my house?”
“If you want to get technical, but do we have time for this? Because it’s after six, and we have work to do.”
I smile as she plays music on her phone, saying we need to set the proper mood. Then, she rummages through the bag she brought and finds a clip, which she uses to pin my hair back.
“I feel like the people probably do before I photograph them.”
“It’s about time you’re on this side of things.” I watch her in the mirror as she draws lines on my face. “You have gorgeous cheekbones, and I know just the right thing to do to highlight them.”
“I don’t want anything too dark or gaudy. A natural style is more than fine.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Umm…”
“You bitch. In all the time you’ve known me, when have I let you down?”
“You just admitted you stole my key.”
She laughs easily, and I wish I had her confidence, something I never would’ve thought I’d say when I first met her.