“If you don’t say something in the next ten seconds, I’m going to drag the nearest medical professional away from the nearest set of testicles to examine you.”
She bent at the waist and sucked in a dramatic breath.
“Well, hell, Lucian. I didn’t know you were serious about this. I don’t know how to handle this.” She straightened and scrunched up her nose at me. “What if I don’t want to have kids with you?”
“You do,” I assured her smugly.
“Fair point. But if we have kids, we’re going to have to get married. Not that you have to be married to have kids, but because I want to. I want a partner. I don’t want to be a single mom with a baby daddy who sends a check.”
“Judging from the suit, it would be one hell of a check,” the wife mused in not quite a whisper.
“We’re getting married, Sloane. I already told you that.”
“Heh. He thinks he can tell her shit like that,” the husband wheezed in amusement.
“I–I–I just don’t know what’s happening right now,” Sloane said, pacing two steps away from me before returning to pinch me. “You feel real. You look real. Am I real? Did I slip into some kind of alternate dimension? Oh my God, am I the main character from The Midnight Library?”
“You’re not dying,” I said.
“You read The Midnight Library?” Her voice rose a full octave.
“I read all your book club picks,” I told her.
“But why?”
“Why? Jesus, Sloane. Why do you think? Because I love you. I’m in love with you. I’ve had the last twenty-some years to obsess over you from afar.”
The wife elbowed her husband. “You never obsessed over me from afar.”
“That’s because the farthest afar you go is your sister’s book club meetings. Maybe if you went farther, I’d have some room to obsess,” he shot back.
Sloane brought her hands to her face. “Shit. I don’t know what to do or say. Last night, Emry told us to take some time. This isn’t time. This isn’t even a day later! Not that I wanted time because my fertility is probably dropping by the second. But I was so sure there was nothing you could do to prove to me that you meant everything you said. And now…” She trailed off and gestured at my crotch.
“Pixie.”
“Don’t laugh at me. I’m allowed to freak out over this. Damn it,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “I would have handled a castle better.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
“I still don’t see why you couldn’t recover at home,” Sloane said, marching me up the walkway to her front porch.
“I thought you’d like driving the Jag, and I am recovering at home,” I said. It was the truth. The Waltons’ house was the only real home I’d ever known.
“Rest. And ice. That’s what the doctor said,” Sloane reminded me.
“I had minor outpatient surgery. I’m fine,” I insisted as she walked backward up the porch steps, holding me by the biceps. I was sore and hungry, but mostly I was nervous as fuck about this next part.
She was so intent on helping me up the porch steps that she was ankle deep in cherry blossoms before she bothered to look down. “What the…”
I made a mental note to kick Knox’s and Nash’s asses. The Morgan brothers had outdone themselves to the point of insanity. The entire front porch was buried under four inches of cherry blossoms. It looked as if a florist shop had exploded.
“Sloane—” I began.
“Okay. This is weirder than a pile of dead rats,” she decided, still holding on to me and frowning at her own blossom-laden cherry tree. “Where did this come from?”
“From two possibly well-meaning idiots who are about to meet their maker. Come here.” We waded through the avalanche of pink petals to the porch swing. There, on a table at least, was the champagne I’d ordered. Next to it was a bottle of bourbon that I hadn’t, and in front of both bottles was a greasy Dino’s pizza box.
I knew I should have called Stef, not Knox and Nash. But Stef was busy with his own grand gesture.
“Lucian, what the hell is going on?” Sloane demanded, opening the pizza box with suspicion.
A movement in the shrubbery caught my eye. Knox Morgan, wearing camouflage and green face paint, rose out of a rhododendron with his phone. He gave me the thumbs-up.
“What. The. Fuck?” I mouthed to him.