“You’re insane,” she whispered back, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But can you think of one reason why you shouldn’t marry me?”
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “We haven’t been together long enough.”
“Semantics.”
“You haven’t met my family.”
“I’ll get on a plane tomorrow.”
“You—I—you.”
“See,” I murmured, pressing my mouth to hers. “We should get married. I love you and you love me.”
I was riding the high, and I couldn’t think of a single reason why I’d ever feel differently about Sarai. Nothing in my life had prepared me for her. Nothing had ever felt so right or perfect.
“I do love you,” she said, running her fingertips down the side of my face. She stared at me, tracing my eyebrows, nose, and lips with her index finger. “I’ll marry you,” she said huskily. “Yes.”
“Yes?” I asked dumbly, unsure if I’d heard her correctly.
“Yes,” she said again, pinching my nose as she laughed.
“Holy shit,” I said gleefully.
I kissed her hard, and I loved it when she relaxed into the bed underneath me, one hand sliding around to my back while the other cupped my cheek. I held myself back a little, not comfortable with the idea of having sex in my parents’ house.
However, neither of us went to bed unsatisfied that night. And later, as I drifted off to sleep with Sarai tucked close against my chest, I ignored the kernel of fear that I was rushing us into something we weren’t ready for.
* * *
I woke up on Thanksgiving morning to a thunderstorm and the sound of my mom and dad talking quietly in the kitchen as they started cooking. Sarai was still completely passed out as I shifted carefully out of bed and found some clothes to wear. I was pretty sure she’d been burning the midnight oil all week in order to have her schoolwork done before we left, and now she’d finally had the chance to crash.
I tiptoed out of the room in my socks and closed the door firmly behind me, hoping she’d get the chance to sleep in. I hated that she worked so hard, but I understood the drive. Now that we were getting married, maybe I could help her relax a little. Teach her how to slow down once in a while.
I was grinning stupidly as I made my way into the kitchen.
“I told you to sleep in,” my mom chastised as soon as I’d walked into the room.
“Can’t,” I replied, heading toward the coffeepot. “I’m getting married.”
“You’re what?” my dad asked, his head jerking up to look at me. He was elbows-deep in the turkey, and the whole thing jiggled at his surprised movement.
“I asked Sarai to marry me, and she said yes,” I said, grinning. “Last night.”
“Last night?” my mom said, her voice faint.
I looked at the absolute shock on their faces and laughed. “What? Why are you so surprised?”
“Because you never said anything,” my mom said, going back to chopping vegetables. “Didn’t you just start dating? I didn’t realize the two of you were so serious.”
“Have I ever brought a woman home?” I asked, a little annoyed at their reactions. I was their last holdout, the child they said they worried would never settle down. Where were the congratulations? Where was the joy and excitement?
My dad watched me for a long moment, then looked over at my mom. Their eyes met for only a brief moment, but it was as if an entire conversation passed between them. He looked back at me as he wiped his hands with a towel, then gave a slight nod. “Congratulations, son,” he said, walking across the kitchen to hug me.
“Thanks, Dad.” I met my mom’s eyes over his shoulder.
“I think it’s great,” she said, her lips trembling a little as she smiled at me. “Just great.”
“Thanks, Ma,” I said, letting go of my dad so I could cross the room and hug her.
“Did you get her a ring?” she asked, her arms circling my waist. “What does it look like?”
“I haven’t gotten one yet.”
“Alex,” she scolded.
“Go get one tomorrow,” my dad said as he started doing ungodly things to the turkey again. “It’s Black Friday.”
“Jewelry stores have Black Friday sales?” I murmured, holding back a laugh. He was completely serious.
“Everyone has Black Friday sales,” my mom replied. “Do you know what you want to get her?”
“A ring,” I joked. Actually, I had no idea what kind of ring she’d like. We’d never even talked about her taste in jewelry. She didn’t wear very much of it. She always had gold hoops in her ears and a gold necklace around her throat with a small Star of David charm that her parents had given her. Sometimes she wore gold bracelets that clinked when they knocked against each other, but that was pretty much it unless we went out somewhere.