I giggle.
“Stop giggling.”
“I’m nervous! This is a big deal, okay? You need to stop getting flustered over getting on one knee.”
“Jesus. I’m nervous too.” His top teeth keep chewing on his bottom lip, and he keeps his eyes downcast as if searching for what to say. “Emmy, from the moment I saw you on the balcony of the motel, I knew you were an extraordinary woman. I want to spend the next few months with you. Will. You. Marry. Me.”
The words, which ring with truth, hang in the air, and the moments stretch like a rubber band. The faux tenderness of his expression, the pretend glint of hope in his eyes, the way his fake smile gives me the shivers, I commit it all to memory.
“All right,” I say, and that’s when the kitchen door flies open, and Babs rushes in.
Chapter 10
EMMY
“Emmy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your family is here and our shipment of dark roast hasn’t arrived and we need to clean since the maintenance person quit—what’s going on here?” Babs says as Graham rises to his feet and brushes his pants off.
Her eyes bug out. “Wait. D-did you just get engaged? Right here? Right now?”
“Um, yes?” I smile.
She has the reaction I expect. She drops the cupcake she was holding. Then her face crumples as if the entire world has imploded, her tears spilling over. She boo-hoos in full-on Babs style with her entire body.
“Y-you minx,” she says to me once she’s gotten a good breath and wiped her face. “Pretending you barely knew him, and all the while . . . congratulations!”
“Thank you,” I say dryly.
“I’m so happy to have you as part of our family!” she tells Graham as she rushes forward and tackles him in a bear hug. He staggers back as she plants a kiss on each of his cheeks, smearing them with pink.
His eyes meet mine over her shoulders, and I lift mine. Babs is just Babs.
She pops him on the arm. “You wily fox! You seemed so blasé earlier when you asked about Emmy, pretending like you didn’t know her. How long has this been going on? Wait. Is there a secret baby? Please say yes!”
“No,” I say with a groan, and she harrumphs in disappointment.
Meanwhile Graham has leaned back against the counter, all casual, smirking. The devil is smiling like he just won the lottery.
“So how did you two meet?” she asks, eyes lit up with delight.
“Now that’s a story. I’ll let Emmy tell you,” Graham drawls, and I send him a glare. Really? What’s the plan?
She grabs my hand and peers at the ring. “But first . . . I love diamonds. They symbolize love and commitment—”
It dawns on me what she said when she came in the door. I interrupt her. “Did you say Jane and Andrew are here?”
“Yep,” Babs says as she slips my ring off and tries it on her finger.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, just as Andrew and Jane sweep into the kitchen.
Here we go . . .
Londyn squeals when she sees me. “E, e, e, e!”
“Hello, my love,” I call out with my arms open as Jane waltzes toward me. She hands her over to me, and I tug her close as the world settles on its axis.
Andrew is staring at his phone as he goes for the pomegranate tea, pours himself a cup, grabs a croissant, then does a quick hop to sit on the counter. “Hey, Emmy, how was your day?” he murmurs absently without glancing at us.
“Oh, you know, this and that, the usual,” I reply.
Jane pulls out a bowl from the cabinet and mixes together some microwavable pasta baby food. “We thought we’d meet you here for dinner, since you said you had to work late. The stove isn’t working anyway.” She gives me one of her rare smiles. “Londyn saw the store from across the street and started chanting your name.”
“Good girl. She knows where I work.” I rub our noses together. “And she knows Magic is here somewhere.”
As if on cue, the black cat appears in the kitchen and pounces on a piece of crust Andrew drops for him. Londyn jabbers at him, and he watches her warily. They had a bit of a tussle last night when she yanked on his half tail. He hissed and ran straight to my bed and got under the covers.
Jane pauses enough to notice Graham, who’s currently talking to Babs a few feet away.
She cocks her head. “He looks familiar. Handsome. One of your book guys?” she asks.
“No.”
She shuts the door to the microwave and hits the power button. “And he is . . .”