Page 147 of The Fake Out

Priorities.

“Alright, you can have the question,” she announced.

“That easily?” Now I was suspicious. But never look a gift horse in the mouth, they say. Catching her off balance, I wrapped my hands around her waist and set her on my lap so her feet dangled off one side and she was forced to lean into me or risk falling over.

She grinned and linked her arms around my neck. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I started to get distracted because her mouth was this close, and it didn’t seem right to leave her lips there all alone. With a frown, I pulled my head back.

“I want to use my question now,” I announced.

“Go ahead.”

“Now remember, you have to answer honestly.”

“Of course.”

“Because this is a real important question, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ask the question.”

“Do you know what today marks the first anniversary of?”

“That’s your question?” Her nose scrunched in thought. I wanted to kiss it. But I resisted. I should be in the running for Saint of the Year. “No, I guess not.”

“On this day, exactly one year ago, I was minding my own business in the Two Harts Public Library—”

“You were sleeping.”

“That is debatable. Anyway, this bossy librarian came over and started heckling me.”

“Heckling?” She laughed.

“I’m telling a story here. Sssh.”

“It was an important day. Did I know that librarian would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me? Not at the time. Mostly I just liked when she whisper-yelled at me. It was sexy.”

She smacked my shoulder. “You’re so weird.”

I picked up her left hand. Her ring finger was bare. Shortly after we’d gotten back together, she’d given me the ring back and told me to hold onto it until the day I wanted to propose for real.

Today seemed like a good day to do that.

I pulled the box out from where I’d hidden it next to my leg. Mae straightened, her eyes lighting up.

“The first time we were engaged, it was all twinkling lights and fancy gazebos and photos. All that stuff is nice but it’s not real.” I popped open the jewelry box. “Real is you and me sitting on this porch together exactly where I hope we’re sitting fifty years from now.”

Those blue eyes of hers were growing shiny with unshed tears.

“Chris,” she whispered.

“I’ve already spoken to your mother, of course. And I cleared it with Ali and Iris, too, to be on the safe side. I think I may have promised both they could be maid of honor. I’ll let you figure all that out.”

She giggled.

I cleared my throat. “Maebell Sampson, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

“No contract this time?”

I shook my head.

“No pretending?”

“All real, all the time.”

She plucked the same opal ring I’d picked out almost a year ago, the one I’d made Piper search high and low for, and slid it on her finger. “I would love to marry you.”

“You know, you do suit me,” I whispered against her mouth.

“I love you, too.”

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