Bliss and the Art of Forever - Alison Kent Page 0,109
more, because she wasn’t sure she could explain what she was feeling without losing the very tenuous hold she had on her composure. “It’s just . . .”
“What?” he asked, his concern making things so much worse. “Just tell me. What did I do? What’s wrong?”
“That’s just it,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “Nothing is wrong. Absolutely everything is right. Except I’m not going to be here to enjoy this room, or you, or Addy . . .”
“Oh, baby,” he said, stepping closer and wrapping her up in his arms. “This room isn’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. Addy on the other hand . . .”
She laughed, nuzzled into his chest, breathed him in, and let go of the doubts and worries that felt like walls closing in. She had patience. She would get through the next month. And she would cling with every ounce of strength she had to the hope that the rest of her life would fall into place.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2001
Closing her eyes, Brooklyn leaned back on her pillows, needing the break from the books spread across her bed. As hard as it was to believe, she was tired of reading, the exhaustion the fault of the research required for her dissertation. Even the title was enough to put her to sleep: The Use of After-School Programs in Aiding the Development of At-Risk Youth.
A juicy medieval-set story. That’s what she wanted. Knights and castles and bloody battles. A fair maiden. A noble steed. Sighing, she sank deeper and closer to sleep, her forearm thrown across her forehead to block the overhead light. Just five minutes. Make it ten. No more than fifteen. Her eyes ached. She was starving. She swore she smelled pizza.
Then came a knock on her bedroom door, a sharp rap of knuckles that only one person ever used. “You can come in if you have food.”
Artie opened the door wide enough for the pizza box he led with, then peered around the corner. “Pepperoni, bacon, onions, olives, and fresh jalapeños.”
“Real bacon. Not that ham that likes to pretend.”
“Real bacon. Exactly the way you like it.”
He knew her so well. She shoved the books to the foot of the bed, making room for him to join her. “Is it all for us, or did you have to share with my parents?”
“I offered but they both declined.”
“You know,” she said as she lifted a slice from the box he opened, winding strings of cheese around one finger, “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my father eat a slice of pizza.”
“He does seem to be more the broiled chicken and broccoli type.”
She laughed at that. “He’s the type who doesn’t think about food as anything but nourishment.”
“Yeah, well, I may be only half Italian, but it’s the half that knows there’s more to food than that,” he said, finishing off his slice, then dusting crumbs from his hands over the box. “Hope that’s okay with you.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” She bit into her slice, wondering why he’d ask such a thing. Unless he was thinking about the future, the two of them being together, his eating them both out of house and home.
That made her laugh. She didn’t know how to cook. How would she ever feed him? Because no matter what he said about being Italian and loving his food, one of them would need to be able to do more than pick up the phone and order takeout. Though she was getting way ahead of herself. And doing so today, of all days . . . She laughed again.
“What’s so funny?”
“Do you know what today is?” she asked him, having caught sight of the date on the calendar above her desk.
“The happiest day of my life?”
He was always so dramatic. “The date, I mean. February fourteenth. It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Are you kidding me?” He frowned and glanced at his watch. “This has got to be the first V-Day in years I haven’t taken a shift for someone.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t know what today was.”
“I do know. Like I said. The happiest day of my life.” He reached into his pocket, then pulled out a jewelry box before he scooted off the edge of the bed and dropped in front of her to one knee.
His face, freshly shaved, she noticed, grew somber, his eyes wide, nearly misty. He swallowed, as if fearful he would choke. “Today’s the day I’m asking the woman I love more than life itself to marry me.