“Yes.”
“Oh, wow.” I didn’t see that one coming.
“Logan, I need to apologize to you,” he says. His cheeks are rosy, and he’s obviously anxious.
“It’s really not necessary, Mr. Madison,” I begin.
He cuts me off by holding up a hand. “Ralph,” he corrects. “I need to thank you,” he says again. “What you did took amazing courage.”
“Really,” I say, trying to cut him off.
“Let me f**king finish, will you?” he asks, still smiling.
Did he just drop the f-bomb? “Have you been hanging out with my brothers?” I ask.
He chuckles. “No, but I’m from the same f**king area as you. I just forgot somewhere along the way where I came from.”
I don’t know what to say. I had no idea Mr. Madison had poor roots.
“I grew up dirt-poor. In a worse neighborhood than yours.” He blows out a breath. “Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of what’s important,” he says. “My family means the world to me. Without them, I am nothing.”
He grimaces as though he doesn’t know what to say next.
“I’m proud that you’re in my daughter’s life. I couldn’t be more pleased with her choice in someone to love.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say. I’ve been blindsided, and I feel like someone has flipped my world around. I didn’t see this coming at all.
“I know you have plans to be with my daughter forever.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small jewelry box. He presses it into my hands. I open it up, and there’s a small diamond engagement ring inside. You would probably need a microscope to see the diamond, but that’s okay. The ring is beautiful, with a lot of detailed etching around the band. It looks like an antique. “If you decide to ask her to marry you at some point, I’d like you to know you have my blessing. And you can use her grandmother’s ring.” He suddenly looks uncomfortable again. “Or you can use your own. I don’t particularly care.”
I remember what he said to me once, about buying my wife a tiny diamond and living with her in a shitty apartment. He shrugs. He remembers it, too.
“Thank you, sir.” I feel like someone has stolen all my wits. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m not implying that you have to ask her anytime soon.”
“I plan to ask her as soon as possible,” I admit. I’ve been planning it since I woke up in the hospital. I don’t want to be away from her for a single second. Ever.
“When you do, you have my blessing, and her mother’s.” He points a finger at me in warning. “I feel like you’re a good man. But if you do anything that will ever break her heart, I’ll have to do terrible things to you.” He glares down his nose at me. “I know people.” He smiles, though.
I look down at my broken leg. “Losing Emily would be punishment enough,” I say. I need to tell him something. I take a deep breath. “I feel like I need to come clean on something.”
His arches his eyebrows and sits forward. “Please do.”
“I didn’t try to push you out of the way that night. Emily was coming up behind you, and I wanted to get to her. So, I shoved you, hoping you would fall into her like dominoes.” I shrug. “It worked.”
He laughs, his chest filling with chuckles. “I know.”
“You did?” How the hell did he know that?
“Yes, I saw the look on your face. No one is that scared over a man who has treated him like a piece of shit.” He sits back and regards me, his eyes narrowing. “When you saw that car coming, you had this look that told me that you were completely in love with my daughter and that you would sacrifice yourself for her.” He nods toward the ring. “That’s why I gave you my blessing. Not because you saved my life.”
“Oh.” I probably sound like an idiot, but I don’t know what to say.
“Two more things before Emily gets back.” He looks anxiously toward the door. “One—when you’re ready, there’s an internship waiting for you at Madison Avenue in the advertising department. You’re a talented artist, Logan, and I could use someone like you.” He holds up a hand to stay me when my mouth falls open. “Trip admitted to me that you designed that advertising campaign. And you’re very talented.” He smiles, and it actually reaches his eyes. Maybe I’ve had too many pain meds. “You won’t start at the top just because you’re marrying my daughter.”
I peer at him, wondering who this man is who is sitting here giving me praise. “I wouldn’t expect any special treatment.” Or accept any for that matter.
He looks toward the door again. “The second thing,” he says. He licks his lips and then his eyes meet mine. “Do you think you could design a tattoo for me? I want something that represents my life. A tattoo that means something to me.”
He wants a tat? “Did you have something in mind?” I ask.
He shakes his head and claps me on my good knee. “I know you’ll come up with something perfect.”
The door opens, and Emily walks into the room. I stuff the ring box down in the couch cushions.
“Give it some thought, and let me know when you’re ready to do it,” he says. He holds a finger in front of his mouth like he’s imparting a secret.
I nod.
He kisses Emily on the cheek and walks out the door. She rushes over to my side. “What did he say to you?”
I still can’t believe it. “He told me he loves me.” I grin at her.
She rolls her eyes and slaps my shoulder. “Be serious.”
“I am,” I complain. “I’m injured. Don’t beat on me.” I catch her hands and pull her toward me.
She sits down next to me. “What did he say, really?” she asks.
“He said I can ask you to marry me,” I say to her, pressing my forehead to hers. I kiss her quickly.
She lays a hand on her chest and inhales and exhales heavily. “What?”
I shrug. “I asked him before the accident if I could have his permission to ask you to marry me. He refused.” I look toward the door he just went through. “He changed his mind.” I reach into the couch cushions and pull out the box. I was going to wait for a special occasion, but I don’t want to wait. I want to put a ring on her as soon as possible. I want her to be mine. All mine.
Her eyes go wide when I show her the box.
“I can’t quite go down onto one knee,” I say in apology.Her eyes fill with tears, and I stuff the box back down in the cushions.
“We can do this another time,” I say.
“Are you kidding?” she asks. She takes my shirt in her fists and jerks me toward her. “Ask me. Ask me. Please ask me.” She’s in my face, and I’ve never been more in love with her than I am right now. But she sits back, looks at me sheepishly, and says, “If you want to ask me, that is. You don’t have to ask me if you don’t want to.”
I wrap my arm around her head and give her a noogie. “I don’t just want to. I have to.”
She looks up at me, her thoughts in as much turmoil as her hair.
“I can’t live without you, dummy,” I try to explain.
She grins at the term of endearment. There was a time that a word like that would have shredded her; now it’s just a word. A funny one, too, because she’s the opposite of dumb.
“I love you,” she says. She kisses me, her tongue sweeping into my mouth, the gentle touch of it against mine making me go rock hard immediately.
“Get the box back out,” she says. I can feel her grin against my lips when she goes back to kissing me.
“What box?” I ask.
“The ring. Ask me. I promise I’ll say yes.”
“You’re so easy,” I tease.
She wasn’t always easy. It was damn hard loving her in the beginning, but I couldn’t avoid it. She’s like a piece of me that was missing all my life. I can’t imagine a day without her. I reach into the cushions and pick up the box. My heart is thumping in my chest like a roofer’s hammer, even though she just told me she was going to accept. I open the box, and it creaks on its hinges.
“Will you marry me?” I ask.
She takes the box and sits back, an open-mouth grin on her face. It’s a mixture of awe and happiness. “I used to look at this when I was little. My dad said my rich husband would get me a big, fat rock and we’d live happily ever after. But all I ever wanted was this ring and a husband who loved me.”
I tip her face up to mine with a crooked finger under her chin. “I love you.” I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Did you forget to say yes?”
“I didn’t forget,” she tosses back at me. She sets the box on the table and gets up. “I just haven’t said yes, yet.” She points toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? I’m thirsty.” She gets up like she’s going to walk away, but I grab her shirt in my fist and pull her back down. I pick up the box, take the ring out of it, and hold it up.
“Marry me, Em,” I plead. “If you say yes, we can have lots of crazy sex and live happily ever after.” I want to laugh, but I can’t. It’s not really funny. “Marry me, Em,” I repeat. “Please.”
She smacks me on the forehead with palm of her hand, and I’m momentarily stunned. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she says. She lets me slide the ring onto her finger. “I couldn’t make it easy for you, dummy,” she says. She settles into my side and nuzzles into that spot that’s all hers. There are no secrets between us. Not anymore. And it feels so f**king good.
I kiss her. “Can we go to bed now?” I ask. It’s been weeks since I’ve been inside her, and granted, I was unconscious for part of it, but I’m not now. And I need her more than I need air.
She knocks on the hard cast that goes all the way up to my thigh. “I have a feeling this is going to be a little unwieldy.”
I shake my head. “You’ll just have to get on top.” I draw her across my lap and lift her shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her belly with my fingertips. She reaches to pull her shirt over her head and looks toward the door. “What?” I ask, my breath ragged.
“Someone is at the door,” she says. She slumps against me and breathes hard for a moment. I pick up a pillow and jam it into my lap, cursing to myself.
When she opens the door, her parents fall into the room, followed by all my brothers.
“Welcome home!” my brothers shout.
Emily’s mother picks up Emily’s ringer finger and holds it up. “Did you say yes?” she asks.
“Of course I did,” Emily says. My brothers come over to congratulate me, and her dad is even glowing. What’s up with that?
Matt comes in with pizzas, and he sweeps Emily into a hug. He dips his face into her hair, and I imagine he’s sniffing her. “You smell good,” he says. She smacks him, and he laughs.
“She said yes, huh?” Paul asks as he sits down beside me. He eyes the pillow in my lap and chuckles.
You guys have terrible timing, I sign.
He tries to look innocent. It’s never a terrible time for a you-just-got-engaged party. He points to the pillow and raises an eyebrow. You got the rest of your life to get laid, he signs. He heaves a sigh. I can see his chest fill with air. I’ll run them all out in a little while.
Promise?
He laughs. I promise. He smiles at me though. You got the rest of your life to make love to that woman.
I look at her, and she smiles at me as she pushes her hair behind her ear. I know. And I plan to.
Sam made cupcakes, Paul signs. You want one? He pushes to his feet.
I’ll eat just about anything Sam makes. Bring me two.
You going to get fat and lazy now that you’re getting married?
What’s your excuse? I ask. He punches my shoulder. I wince because I’m still sore. Paul looks into my eyes. You did good picking that one, he signs, nodding toward Emily.
Well, if you ever meet a girl who punches you in the f**king nose when you meet her, marry her, I tell him. He laughs and goes to get a cupcake. I rub the bridge of my nose and think back. I reach for the napkin on the table and start to doodle the tattoo I’ll put on her dad.
I’m thinking he needs a street sign where Madison Avenue and Family converge. Family will be at the top and much more prominent. Madison Avenue will be all glitzed up with lights and baubles while Family will look comfortable and pleasant. Maybe with some filigree and antique markings. Madison Avenue, despite all its wealth, will look poor in comparison. I don’t know how I’ll do it yet, but I’ll figure it out. At the bottom, I’ll write the words he said to me when he asked for the tattoo: My family means the world to me. Without them, I am nothing.
I might have those words put across my ribs because they fit me, too.
Emily
I close the door behind the family. Logan looks tired. It hasn’t been long since his accident, and he’s still recovering. I actually let them stay way too long.
“You need some pain meds?” I ask.
He shakes his head and motions me forward. “Not yet,” he says as he pulls me down to sit on his good knee. He has the other propped on the coffee table. He winces as he moves, though. He’s hurting. I can tell. He lifts the edge of my shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to lie against my skin. His head falls back on the edge of the couch, and he looks at me through half-closed blue eyes that simmer.
Goodness, he’s handsome. And he’s all mine.