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He shook his head. “We’ll see.”
The vineyard was hopping with activity, but inside the house, it was quiet. Zeke shot Max a look when we arrived, but then he extended his hand which, after a poignant pause, Max accepted.
“A year. You could deal with the Russians faster than you could find Hope?” Zeke walked into the kitchen to get some wine.
“You knew?” I practically shouted at Zeke, while Noah ran up for me to pick him up in my arms. He always did that when I came over. Much to Bridget’s chagrin, I was his favorite auntie, but what was he supposed to do when he saw her almost never?
Layla leaned against the wall. Her pregnancy was showing now. She cradled her swollen stomach.
Zeke shot me a look. “Who else was it going to be, if it wasn’t me or Michael?”
I’d asked Michael to start the process of bringing me back to being me and not Amelia anymore. He was working on it.
“Do you know how many times I called you over the last year?”
Zeke smirked. “Why should I make it easy on you? If you could find the Russians, you should have been able to seek out Hope. Looks like you worked it out. Good job with the Food Network move.”
“Thanks.” Max took the wine from him. “You know I sell your product at my restaurant.”
Zeke grinned. “Thanks for that.”
I groaned, and Layla shook her head. “They’re working it out. Go sit down. He’s out.”
It was Noah she motioned toward, and I realized that yes, he’d conked out right on my shoulder. This was the second time he’d done so upon my arrival. Last time, his nap lasted for two hours. I loved his trust, and my heart clenched with my love for this little boy—the cutest boy ever born, I was convinced of it.
I sat down on her couch and realized the room had fallen silent. They all watched me. My gaze met Max’s. I really had no idea what he was thinking right then, but it was intense. His gaze was heated. I didn’t look away. He was mine, alongside all the intensity that came with him.
“What if we went to Vegas? Right now?” Max asked me while we drove back to Seattle.
“What?” I stared at him. “Why? Are you feeling like you want to go gamble?”
He shook his head. “Never. I’m not a gambler because I know sometimes you can lose. No, I want to marry you. Right now. Tonight. Or tomorrow really early in the morning. Do you want a big wedding? If you want that, we can have that, but that means my family, as you know. I’d love to see you in a dress. Don’t get me wrong. I would. However, I’d rather have you be my wife tonight.”
I gasped. “Max…um. I think you have to ask me first before you plan the wedding.”
His smirk was stupidly adorable. “Yes, there is that. Hope, will you marry me? Will you make me the happiest man there ever was? Will you let me make you happy every day? Will you be my wife? Tonight?”
I dramatically sighed. “So what you’re saying is you want to ask me what I want for dinner and discuss vacation plans with me?”
“Hope, I would cook you anything you want, anytime you want it. And I’ll go anywhere in the world with you. Please just let me come. Anything you want. Anywhere you want.” His expression was serious. “I want all the things that married couples do. I never want to argue with you, but if we do, then I want to make up right then. I want to plan a future. I want to wake up with you. I want to see you holding our baby like you held Noah. Our baby. In your arms. I want to see you get big with that baby. I want to get old with you. You know I’m older than you, so I’m going to go first. I want to look at you at the end, know you’re there with me, and—”
“Stop,” I said, interrupting him. Tears had hit my eyes. “I can’t…I can’t think of that. Okay? Not that. Not ever that image. I already live with a ghost. I’m not going to add some sort of future anticipatory grief to that. Don’t ever say that again. None of us know what’s going to happen. You know that I’m never going to be entirely…normal. I still sometimes have to lock and relock my doors. Things like that. Are you sure you want a wife who does that kind of thing? The mother of your children to do that?”
He let go of the steering wheel to tangle his hand in my hair. “I want you, Hope. Everything that comes with that. I’m fucked up too. I could start listing what that is again if you need. I love you, Hope. Everything about you.”
“You don’t want to take a breath and get used to having me around again before you commit to this?”
He scrunched my hair harder. “Because you think I might change my mind? I know who you are. This is your self-doubt rearing up. Do you need some time? To decide about me? It’s okay if you do. I am going to work every day, married or not, to be worthy of your love. To be at the point where you can say unequivocally, yes, Max, I’ll marry you.”
“Yes, Max. I’ll marry you.”
He audibly caught his breath. “Thank you, Hope. Thank you.”
“In Vegas. Tonight.” I didn’t need or want a white wedding. There wasn’t a thing about that experience that I wanted.
I just wanted Max.
“Even if the food I asked for was frozen fish sticks?” I’d developed a little bit of a taste for them over the last year.
