Page 102 of Interpreter

“Promise you won’t say a word,”he signs.

I make a zipping motion over my lips.“I promise.”

Slowly, Tim rises from the chair, and Oliver leaves my side, joining his hero and taking his hand instead.

“This entire six weeks, I’ve wondered what sound I wanted to hear first—if the surgery worked.” His adorable brown eyes twinkle. I shit you not. “I made a list.”

Of course he did.

“There are so many things—so many people—that I yearned to hear. What they sounded like, if their voices had matured, what my name sounded like coming out of their mouths.” He looks at me and winks. He has to keep this PG for the kiddo. What he really means is he wanted to hear those moans in all their high-pitched glory.

“But, after much debate, it came down to one word.”

One word. Okay. That could be so many things. He could mean—“Oh my God, what are you doing? Are you getting down on one knee?”

Tim sighs and shakes his head. “You promised not to speak.”

“Yeah, but—” He gives me a pointed look. “You’re right. I did. Continue.”

Tim and Oliver share an exasperated look, and I’m not sure I appreciate it at all, but then the little munchkin, who can sign like a tiny pro now, drops to his knee too, and I know that this is about much more than the surgery.

“Milah,” Tim says, and Oliver signs, “the first word I want to hear is the wordyes.” Dr. Callahan removes the headphones from his ears, and I’m already sniffling, watching Oliver complete the signs on one knee. “Milah, mi amor, this is the second time I’m asking you this question. Your citizenship is not in jeopardy. Neither is your job.” He points to Oliver and himself, pulling a black box out of his pocket. He snaps it open, revealing a sparkling blue diamond. It reminds me of the aqua waters back home. I bet he knew that when he chose the ring. He knew I would love it.

“This is us… asking you to marry us for the rest of our lives.”

Do you think if I say, “hell yes,” that’ll kill the moment? Should I just say it how he wants me to? I mean, he’s thought about it. It’s been his dream to hear the one word.

“Milah…?” he prompts.

“Si! Yes! Hell freaking yes! I’ll marry you, Papi!” I slam into the man that could quite literally bench press my entire body, crying on those massive shoulders as I pull our little boy to us. “And you, my boy, I’d love to be your mami.”