Page 104 of Loving at 40

“Don’t need a boy, ’Locks. Just healthy, happy kids.”

“It’s risky,” I say, noting the room is quieting around us, especially the other adults within earshot, like River and Anna.

“When have you known me not to take a risk?” Archer teases, allowing that half-cocked smile to grow even larger. A smile softens his hard-edged face, and my insides warm. That might be my ovaries heating up, though.

“For me,” I state, clarifying that I’d be at risk having a baby this late in life as would any baby we conceived, but it isn’t unheard of. In fact, having a child over forty happens more often than people might think.

Archer sobers after my comment. “I’m happy with the princesses we have.” His serious tone does not deter me from noticing he mentioned we.

We have two girls. While my heart knows Ryan is their biological father, he didn’t have the chance to be a daddy to either of them, and the thought pains me. But that pain is more like a chronic ache than a sudden stabbing as it first was. I’ll always love him. I’ll always miss him, and I’ll always be grateful that I finally found him, and he gave me my two beautiful little girls.

But Ryan isn’t here to raise them, love them, and support them, and Archer is.

“What do you think about adopting them?” The words fumble out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying, although I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. Not to mention, I’ve just blurted it out before an audience of friends. We should be discussing this in private. I should be allowing him time to consider it or immediately reject it, not placing him on the spot, where he’ll feel pressured into something he might not want.

“I think you should marry me,” Archer states, standing from his perch on the couch.

His face grows serious once more, and I start to backpedal. I shouldn’t have said what I said, out loud or otherwise, and I don’t want him to feel spotlighted like he has to do something he doesn’t intend to do.

For some reason, River shifts closer to me, and Lake is removed from my arms. I’m standing in Anna’s sitting area off the kitchen, where I suddenly want the floor to crack open and swallow me down. This is so embarrassing. Archer is staring at me, and tears are filling my eyes because I feel so stupid that I’ve even suggested he’d want a baby with me, or he’d want to adopt my girls.

“Right. Marriage . . . I didn’t mean . . . I meant, hypothetically . . .” The hole I’ve dug feels like it’s getting bigger, and I’m sinking faster into a pit of quicksand. Just shut up, Jenna.

“And I mean it literally. Marry me, ’Locks.” Archer drops to one knee in the middle of the floor, surrounded by this audience of family and friends. He takes my hand while I stare down at him, speechless for a moment as he slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a gorgeous antique diamond ring.

“My mother never thought she’d live to see the day I married. She was right.” Archer chokes. “She passed before I found the one, but she told Anna if something ever happened to her, she wanted me to have her ring. The one my father gave her, promising he’d love her through everything. Thick. Thin. Times of pressure. Times of pleasure. He promised to keep her safe and happy. That’s what I want to give you.”

With the tears in my eyes, I can hardly see the antique gold ring with its singular diamond. His hand tightens around my fingers.

“My parents were married just shy of forty years. I want all the years with you as well,” Archer states. “Only you, Jenna. You’re the one to show me I can have love, and I can give it, and I’m a new man because of it. I promise to protect your heart.”

Now I’m just sobbing. My hair tips forward, curtaining my face while my hand covers my lips but not muting my tears. Archer squeezes my fingers again as if he’s waiting on me, as if he’s asked me something and I’ve missed the question.

His expectant eyes look up at me, and I blink to clear my own. “Yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, I want to marry you.”

The ring is slipped onto my finger, and once more, I don’t have the chance to really look at it as Archer stands and cups my head, pulling me in for a kiss that’s hard and fast before everyone. Slowly, the whoops, and gasps and clapping register, and I remember who is present.

Rosie. Talia.

Archer breaks the kiss and lowers back to his knee, holding my hand with the ring. I watch as Rosie walks up to him and slips her arm around his shoulder while Talia stands close to him.

“Does this mean I can call you Daddy now?” Rosie says, and Archer wraps his arm around her little back.

“I think it does.” He jostles her into his side while tugging at my hand, and I answer Rosie.

“You can call him Daddy,” I whisper, pushing back once more the ache of Ryan’s loss. Archer gaining the girls is just as worthy.

Talia walks closer to Archer and places her small hand on his shoulder. He looks at her, holding her gaze a second. The girls don’t seem half as surprised as me.

“You’re going to fight off her bad dreams?” she asks, her voice quiet.

My eyes remain on my child, the cautious one. The worrying one. My breath catches at her question. I haven’t had a bad dream since Archer’s return. The old ones about Ryan’s loss were replaced by Archer’s disappearance, but in the last six weeks, nothing.

“That’s what dads do,” she adds.

I don’t understand her meaning, but Archer gives her a nod as if he does.

“I’m going to fight off anything that could hurt any of you. Day and night.” With his knees on the floor, Archer releases my hand and circles his arm around Talia’s back as he holds Rosie. Though Rosie has easily fallen into Archer, Talia still focuses on his face for a moment while Archer looks up at me. “Only good dreams from now on.”