Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
She looked down at my simple offering. My dad had shown it to me when I was younger, and when he died, it was one of the few things I was able to keep. I’d protected it vigilantly while I was on the streets. It had meant a lot to him; therefore, it was special to me. The same went for his guitar. I recalled him playing it when I was young. Although in my later years, he’d never had time. Still, it meant a lot to me, and I kept it safe. I never bought a new one since playing this one made me feel closer to him somehow.
The band of the ring was filigree, delicate and pretty. Flecks of diamonds were scattered on the sides, and the top was an octagon with seven small diamonds set in the platinum. It was neither showy nor extravagant, but the sentiment it held for me was great. Sentiment I hoped Lottie would share.
“I’ll buy you something bigger one day. When I’m worthy of you,” I murmured.
Her voice caught. “You’re already worthy. And I don’t want anything bigger.” She exhaled, the sound shaky as I slid the ring onto her finger, marveling at the fit and how it looked on her hand—as if it were meant to be there.
“I love it. I love you.”
I looked up, meeting her eyes. Her gaze was saturated with love. I felt it encompass me, soaking into my skin, nestling itself deep within my heart.
“Marry me.”
“Because of the baby?” she whispered.
“Because I love you and I don’t want to waste a moment of what we have. Our baby is simply the icing on the cake. I get both of you to love.” I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed it. “Let me tell the world that. Be mine.”
A tear shimmered and slid down her cheek.
“Yes,” was her simple answer.
And with that one word, my world was complete.
Chapter 24
Lottie
I wasn’t sure what was more amusing. The nervous look on Logan’s face before he opened the door and greeted my mother, accepting a casserole dish from her, or the uncomfortable look on my mother’s face as she handed it to him. Both were floundering, Logan torn between his anger with my parents in general and his innate kindness toward people. My mother was clearly uneasy at being here—and especially greeting Logan. Her hands fluttered, and she hesitated, unsure whether to shake his hand, cross her arms, or walk past him. Logan stared at the covered dish, then glanced up at my mother. He cleared his throat.
“Thank you. For, ah, whatever this is.”
“Mac and cheese. Lottie’s favorite.”
I stepped forward and took the casserole. “June made it?”
Her words stopped me. “I made it. You always said I made the best. You especially liked it when you weren’t feeling well. You always asked for it.”
I froze. She did—when I was a child. She hadn’t made me mac and cheese since Josh died. The one time I’d asked, she said no. I never asked again.
I met her eyes. Her dark gaze was hesitant—almost fearful. She lifted her elegant shoulders. “I had to start somewhere, Lottie.”
My voice caught, realizing how hard she was trying. “This is a good place.”
Logan took the casserole from my hands and pressed a kiss to my head. “Go sit with your mom. I’ll take care of this.” He sent a smile in Mom’s direction. “I’ll bring tea, Mrs. Prescott.”
She offered him a nod. “Thank you.”
My mom followed me to the sofa and sat across from me. She hunched forward, anxious. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
“You were in the hospital.” A strange tremor crept into her voice, and without thinking, I grasped her hand. Part of me was shocked that she gripped mine back.
“I had a panic attack. A bad one. But I’m fine.”
Her gaze fell to my hand and the ring that now rested on my finger. She lifted her eyes to mine.
“So, it is true.”
“Which part?” I asked, worried we were about to start fighting. I was too tired to deal with that right now, and I was feeling optimistic and happy about my future for the first time in a long while. But her voice was mild when she replied.
“You’re engaged.”
“And pregnant,” I responded.
There was a beat of silence. Her next words shocked me. “And happy?”
My gaze flew to hers. There was no judgment. No anger. No disconnect. My mom was there—the woman I remembered from all those years ago.
“So happy,” I whispered. “And scared.”
She laughed quietly. “We’re all scared when we find out we’re going to be a parent. I remember when I found out I was pregnant—” she swallowed and paused “—with Josh. I was more scared than excited for the first while. I had no idea how to look after a baby. But I figured it out.” She was quiet for a moment. “When I found out I was pregnant with you, happiness was the first emotion.” She patted my hand. “It’s quite normal.”