Page 69 of Sabre’s Guard

My tears spill over.

“I want the whole meal, Linsey.”

I make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. I remember him telling me how he only cooked finger food and his club brothers teased him that everything else seemed like too much responsibility.

He continues. “I want family dinners. I want Noah leavin’ his crap all over the floor and you complainin’ because I bought another knife I don’t need. I want this baby waking us up at three in the morning. I want you correcting my cooking even when you’re wrong.”

“I’m never wrong,” I say and pause. “At least not where cooking’s involved.”

“Woman, I’m proposin’ here,” he says with a grin.

Sabre lowers himself onto one knee and it takes everything in me not to start sobbing. He opens the box and the ring is beautiful. It’s simple and elegant.

“Linsey, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

I barely get it out.

His entire face changes.

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

The clubhouse erupts. Sabre gets the ring onto my finger approximately half a second before I grab his face and kiss him. His arms go around me carefully because there’s a baby between us now and Noah barrels into both of us. Sabre catches him with one arm and for a moment, the three of us are tangled together while the Savage Legion celebrates around us.

I place my hand over my stomach.

All four of us.

***

It takes another two hours for the cookout to finally wind down and for us to return home. By then I’m exhausted. Happy, but exhausted.

My ring catches the light every time I move my hand. I’ve probably looked at it a hundred times. Sabre told me that he knows I can’t wear it in the restaurant so he’s got a gold chain for me as well so I can wear it around my neck. That biker of mine is thoughtful.

I sit on the porch swing with my feet up and Sabre comes out carrying two plates.

“No.”

He stops. “What?”

“I can’t eat another thing,” I say.

“It’s cheesecake.”

I look at the plate. “Well, that’s different.”

He sits beside me and I take the fork he offers me. For a few minutes, neither of us speaks. We share the cheesecake while the last traces of sunlight disappear beyond his backyard fence. My head settles against his shoulder. His hand rests on my stomach and the baby moves.

Sabre’s fingers spread. “There she is.”

“Or he.”

“Or he,” he repeats.

I hold up my left hand. The ring glitters in what’s left of the light.