Songs for Libby - Annette K. Larsen Page 0,118

want to marry me?”

“Why do you look surprised?”

“I’m not. It just…it seems a little fast.”

“Fast?” His nose wrinkled in amused disbelief. “Knowing and loving you for more than ten years is fast?”

“But we haven’t been together very long.”

His arms went limp in exasperation. “Are you honestly arguing with me about this?”

“People usually date for more than a few months before they—”

“People aren’t us.” He suddenly looked uncertain. “Do you not want to marry me?”

My heart swelled seeing his vulnerability. “Of course I want to marry you.” The confession came out as a whisper, and the tears that burned at the back of my eyes took me off guard. Sean had that effect on me. I thought I knew him so well, and yet he had the ability to take my breath away with the simplest look.

His grin came slow but full. “Then can we please do it as soon as possible?”

“Like now?”

“Well, not right this minute. Joanie is sleeping, after all.” He nervously tapped his finger against the table. “But soon? A few weeks?”

I pressed my lips together and crossed my arms as I tried to keep my tears at bay, but they escaped the confines of my lashes and slipped down my cheeks. “You want to get married that soon?”

He stood, coming to my side and kneeling by my chair, then took my hand and turned it palm up. “Yes, please.” He dropped a ring in my hand.

I gazed down at the ring—which had two diamonds nestled in the loops of an infinity symbol—and blinked as more tears escaped.

“Unless you want a big wedding,” he was quick to amend. “We could do that. We could plan something elaborate and amazing.”

I shook my head, pushing the ring onto my finger. “I don’t want to plan something elaborate. I just want to marry you.” I clasped my hands around the back of his neck and kissed him thoroughly. A shiver went down my spine when he sighed against my lips.

We were going to go get married. Sean had just asked me to marry him.

Our kiss broke when I started laughing and I pulled back to grin at him. “That was a terrible proposal,” I declared.

He shrugged one shoulder. “It got the job done.”

♪♫♪

We got married twenty days later in our backyard. The guest list was tiny, but Naomi, Debbie, and my little Joanie were all there, and that’s who I cared about.

During the short ceremony, Debbie offered to hold Joanie, but Sean insisted she be with him. “I’m making these vows to her as well” was his easy explanation. She fell asleep in his arms just before I walked down the short aisle, so he held my sleeping bundle of love against his shoulder as we said our I dos, and then he bent his knees in order to get low enough for me to kiss him without disturbing our baby.

I rested my hand against his cheek and pressed several desperate and grateful kisses to his mouth. My chest and my eyes were brimming with emotion—joy and hope and peace.

We ate cake and we danced. I tossed my bouquet directly to Debbie, who scolded me even as she blushed.

My wedding was small and beautiful and exactly what I wanted it to be.

I had lost a lot in my life, and yet the bounds of my heart seemed nearly ready to burst for all that I had. But I’d learned that hearts are pliable; they’ll expand to accommodate as much love as we’re willing to let in.

As I swayed from side to side, wrapped in my new husband’s arms, he looked down at me with such devotion and light shining in his expression that I knew his love for me was as vast as mine for him. And to prove me right, he raised my left hand to his lips, kissed my infinity wedding ring, and said, “This is how much I love you.”

Epilogue

Five Years Later

The mattress shifted beneath me and I startled awake.

“Shh,” Sean hushed as he draped his arm over my side, settling his head on the pillow next to mine. “Go back to sleep.”

“No,” I protested, trying to shift myself into wakefulness. “I was going to be awake when you got home.”

He chuckled close to my ear. “How did that work out?”

“Shut up,” I murmured, rolling to my other side so I could snuggle my head on his shoulder and breathe in his clean scent. “My man is back.” He’d only flown up to New York for two days,

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