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I shivered at the nickname. Will rarely called me that anymore. Any worries about him wanting me only because I was forbidden had been laid to rest. He wanted me, Andrea Baker, who got lost in books and writing, and considered wine and something cheese-based an adequate dinner most nights but baked a pie every once in a while, who still beat him two games out of three at chess, who was dreamy but ambitious, shy but sharp-tongued, and filled with more love than I ever knew I could have.
And I most definitely wanted Will for himself.
“Tell me.” I stroked the line of his jaw.
His finger lightly drew a circle around my navel. “Guess.”
“Will!” My whole body flushed hot, my eyes opening wide. “Were you thinking about knocking me up?”
“Mm-hm.” He tickled the smooth expanse of my belly. “It’s hot.”
“Now you’re just trying to shock me.”
His grin beamed in the dark. “That’s fun, too. But I’m not totally joking, Andie.”
I stared at him. “God, where is this coming from? It’s out of nowhere.”
“You’re right, sweet girl.” Regret took over his beautiful face. “I jumped ahead. Let’s back up. Want to get married?”
He posed the question as casually as if he was asking what I wanted for breakfast the next morning.
“What?” My jaw dropped.
“Hmmm.” Green eyes moved over my face, clear as the ocean pounding below us. “Not the response I was hoping for.”
My head was spinning. I cupped his jaw in my hands, trying to come back to earth. “You just sprung that on me. Are you serious at all?”
Will’s dark brows lifted sorrowfully. “You’re cruel, baby girl. So cruel, to doubt me. I’m as serious as I’ve ever been. We can, you know.” His teeth flashed at me. “We can get married. It’s legal in New York. And a lot of other places.”
“I know,” I murmured. “I’ve checked.”
“So it’s not out of nowhere. You’ve been thinking about it too.”
I dipped my head in a nod. “I just didn’t expect to talk about it so soon. You’re twenty-three. I’m twenty-four.”
“Why wait, if we want to be together? You’re it for me, Andie. You’re the woman I love.” His face was open now, and vulnerable.
“You’re the one for me too,” I whispered. Taking a deep breath, I gave voice to the tiny fear that still haunted me, the one that surfaced occasionally when I woke from anxious dreams. “Are you sure — I just wonder — would you ever get tired of this? Would you ever want some society wife? Would you want to go back to your old lifestyle?”
Will looked shocked. He grasped both my hands in his. “How can you think that?”
I stared down at the blanket, our crossed legs, the soft white sand surrounding us. “You’re making more money now—”
“So are you,” he interjected. “You’re doing great. If you stay at that publishing house, you’re going to be running it someday. People love your writing.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. “I just worry. If you eventually get wealthy—”
“You mean, if we get wealthy.”
“You keep interrupting me!” I poked his chest. “I’m just afraid of what you might miss. Once it’s within your reach again.”
Will moved to sit up, facing me on his knees. “Andrea Baker,” he said softly. “Listen to me.”
I blinked at him. “I’m listening.”
“I don’t ever want that again. Ever, in my fucking life. I don’t want a goddamn society wife. I don’t want a life that’s all nice things and no love. I want you. I want to make money for us. For the family I hope we have someday. To give you what you’ve dreamed of. To take care of you like I promised. You think I’d want to let you go?”
“No,” I said softly. “I believe you.”
