Jackson #2
I told her about Stacy weeks ago when we were filling in the year we spent apart and everything that happened while we weren't in each other's lives. I didn't hide what Stacy and I were to each other, or what we weren't. Rose knows there was never some great love story there.
Except Rose doesn't look bothered at all.
She's tucked against my side now with both hands wrapped around my arm, staring up at me with this almost awed expression.
Which is somehow more concerning.
"I think Stacy may be giving me too much credit," I say, turning back to Quinn. "Pleasure to meet you. And congratulations."
"Thank you. Same to you."
"We won't keep you," Stacy says. "We're just headed home."
She looks between Rose and me, and her smile softens.
"It really is so good to see you. Both of you. Congratulations."
"Thank you," Rose says.
Stacy steps forward and gives her a brief hug, which Rose returns easily. Then Stacy turns to me.
"Thank you for everything, Marcus." Her voice softens. "I'm grateful I met you."
And okay. Maybe I really did underestimate what that time meant to her.
We were both pretty fucked up back then.
Stacy was trying to get over someone. I was trying not to admit I'd been in love with someone for most of my adult life.
We drank together, slept together, talked when one of us needed to talk, and eventually stopped needing each other for any of those things.
I never thought of myself as helping her through anything. We were just... there for each other.
But looking at her now, happy and holding the hand of the man she's going to marry, I'm glad whatever I gave her was something good.
"Likewise, Stace."
She gives me one last smile before taking Quinn's hand, and the two of them continue down the sidewalk.
I wait until they're far enough away that they can't hear us before turning immediately to Rose.
She's still attached to my arm.
Still staring at me like that.
"I'm sorry."
Her eyebrows pull together. "For what?"
"If that was awkward." I turn toward her fully.
"I know I told you about Stacy, but hearing about someone and having her walk up to you are two different things.
I completely understand if that bothered you.
That was a different time in my life, and I probably should've given you a little more warning before introducing you. "
Nothing.
Rose just stares at me.
Then she says, "You called me your fiancée."
I pause. Of all the responses I prepared for in the last thirty seconds, that wasn't one of them.
"I did."
"You called me your fiancée."
"Yes." I study her face. "Did that upset you?"
Her eyes widen. "You haven't even proposed, Jackson."
Oh. That.
"Semantics. We already have a marriage license."
Her mouth falls open. "Which you tricked me into getting!"
"I did not trick you."
"You told me you needed my help with legal paperwork!"
"I did need your help."
"You needed my signature on a marriage license!"
"Yes. That was one of the things I needed help with."
"Jackson."
I wave a hand. "It was convenient. We were already in the same building."
"Because you manufactured a reason for us to be in the same building!"
"I really did need your help that day."
"You are so full of shit."
"That's unnecessarily hostile."
"You ambushed me with a marriage license."
"Ambushed feels dramatic, Rose. I presented you with an opportunity."
"To marry you."
"Exactly."
Okay. That one may have pushed it, because she stares at me with a particular twitch in her upper lip that I’ve grown to be wary of.
"A proposal is not a technicality, and neither is a marriage license."
"It is when the outcome has already been decided."
Her mouth drops open again. "By who?"
"Me."
She blinks at me several times. Yep. I’m in danger.
"Us," I amend.
"Interesting correction."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I choose to receive it as one."
She's trying to glare at me, but I can see the smile fighting at the corners of her mouth now, which means I am absolutely not stopping.
"The proposal is a formality that will arrive at a time and place of my choosing."
"Maybe I don't wanna marry you. Ever considered that possibility?"
Now she's really fighting the smile.
God, I missed being able to read her like this.
"Is that right?"
"Absolutely."
I step closer and pull her against my chest before she can continue arguing with me about a future neither one of us is actually disputing. Her hands settle against my sides, and I cup her jaw in my palm.
Her eyes flutter closed, just for half a second.
There it is. That tiny fucking reaction gets me every time.
"But make no mistake, woman." I wait until she opens her eyes again. "You're going to be my wife."
The smile disappears. So does mine.
"You can argue with me about the terminology.
You can complain that I skipped a procedural step.
You can even pretend you don't already know what your answer is going to be.
" I rub my thumb slowly across her cheek.
"But you're going to be my wife, Rose. Therefore, as far as I'm concerned, you're my fiancée. "
"That is not how engagements work."
"It's how ours works."
Her fingers curl into my shirt. "You’re extremely arrogant. You know I could say no when you finally ask me."
“Sure, baby.”
“I could!”
“Yes, you sure could. I believe in you.”
"Fuck you."
I kiss the corner of her mouth. "Later, fiancée."
She rolls her eyes, but I feel her smile against my lips.
"On every hard surface in our apartment," I add.
"Keep talking and I'll make you sleep on one."
"There she is."
I kiss her properly this time, still smiling because she can argue the engagement process all she wants.
She didn't argue the wife part.
Not once.