Epilogue
Three Months Later
“So what movie is on the agenda tonight?” Gabriela asked.
“Do you want an action or comedy?” he asked.
This was their routine. The first night of their five days together, they watched a movie, taking turns picking.
But there were always two options, so was it really just one person picking?
Who cares?
It worked for them. Like everything else seemed to work.
“How about a comedy,” she said. “I could use a laugh today.”
“What, you didn’t laugh enough when your legs gave out at the gym and you tripped? Good thing I caught you.”
She shoved at his arm. “You were the one who worked my legs so hard, so you needed to be the one to catch me.”
He laughed and squeezed her thighs where she sat on the couch, kneading the muscle with his thumbs.
She yelped and jumped. “Hey—careful!”
“That bad?” he asked, amused.
“They’re sore,” she said. “I may have pushed a little hard.”
“I can give you a real massage later,” he said casually.
Her brow lifted. “I expect one. After you feed me. So, what are tonight’s snacks?”
“Loaded waffle fries,” he said, already standing.
She blinked. “No shit. Seriously?”
“Dead serious. I’ve been craving them all day.”
“You never make fries,” she said. “You claim you can’t stop once you start.”
“And tonight,” he said, grinning, “I fully intend to eat the entire plate. Whether you assist is entirely up to you.”
“I’m assisting,” she stated firmly. “And I might out-eat you. We can make it a race.”
“Nope,” he said flatly. “I’m not cleaning up puke.”
She burst out laughing. “Smart man.” She pushed herself up, then hesitated. “Let me help.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Tonight I wait on you. You’ve done enough of that lately.”
“Ugh,” she complained, but she kicked her feet up and settled in anyway. “Fine. You can be my servant for the evening if you want.”
He leaned down, kissed her, softly, lingering, then turned toward the kitchen.
She was right. She hadn’t been doing as much for him lately. Not like that first month after Taylor lost the baby.
But what she had done mattered more.
She didn’t ask how he was holding up.
Didn’t push him to talk. Didn’t try to fix what couldn’t be fixed.
She gave him space simply by being there.
By making him laugh, then peppering in moments of dropping her own guard.
By talking to him about how she felt, which allowed him to care for her, in turn, letting him open up as well.
And somehow, that had been exactly what he needed.
It worked well.
Better than well.
Once he was in the kitchen and he knew she wasn’t going to join him, he put the fries in the air fryer, then grabbed the milk, heavy cream and shredded cheese and got them going in a pot.
While those two things were cooking, he chopped up the bacon he’d made earlier with black olives and green peppers.
Twenty minutes later, his head was swiveling around the kitchen again.
She was nowhere to be found. Matter of fact, he heard the toilet flush, so he quickly dumped the fries on the plate, added the cheese and the rest of what he’d had cut up, then brought the plate into the living room with napkins and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch with two forks.
“Only one plate?” she asked, digging in and pulling one off the top with two fingers.
“Yep. No reason to dirty more.”
“True. Because you’d just steal mine anyway.”
He winked. “Smart woman,” he said, returning her comment from earlier.
The two of them dove in, eating the fries, cheese all over her fingers rather than using the fork.
Why not? He put his down and did the same. It was part of the fun and the night was only going to get better.
“Damn,” he said, grabbing another. “You’re eating them fast. You really are trying to beat me.”
She shoved another one in her mouth, the cheese dripping on her chin. He pulled his phone out to take a picture. He just had to.
She was reaching for another and laughing. “What’s that?”
The fry went into her mouth, but she was pushing the others around. “What does it look like?”
“Like paper or a wrapper,” she said. “If you were in a restaurant you’d fail an inspection sending out food with paper in it.”
She pulled a corner of it out.
“Doesn’t look like paper to me.”
“Holy fuck,” she said, not paying attention to anything but the little baggy in her hand.
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” he asked, reaching for it.
“You put an engagement ring under loaded fries?” she asked. She snatched it out of his hand again. “It is a diamond, right?”
“It is,” he said. “I figured we’d never forget this.”
“Wait,” she said, looking around frantically. He had no idea what she was doing, then she found her phone and snapped some pictures. “No one is going to believe this. That you did it like this. I need proof.”
He grinned at the cheese still on her chin. “I’ve got my own proof too.” He opened the little bag, pulled the ring out, then got on one knee, grabbing her hand in his. “Gabriela. The only woman I’ve let share fries with me.” She burst out laughing. “I mean if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
“It’s up there on the list for me,” she said.
Her hand was shaking. His might be too.
“I do love you. With everything I’ve got. What we’ve got. I never thought I’d find again. Ever.”
“Me neither.”
“I don’t want to go another day without making you mine. Without us planning our future.” The tears were rolling over her cheeks. The smile on her face just as massive as the day he met her. “Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?”
“I will. I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife. I’ll even let you steal my fries.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger. “That’s a requirement.”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“That we get married in two months or less because I’m stopping birth control tonight but still want to look smoking in a wedding gown!”
“Deal!”
The End!