I turn back to Joe. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t know when I would do this. Maybe not even for a while. But …” My throat tightens. “If I were to ask Bellamy to marry me, would that be okay with you?”
He drops the bag in his lap. His eyes fill with tears as he sits with the most peaceful look on his face.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The way he reaches for my hand says it all.
“I’ll make her the center of my world,” I promise him. “And I’ll get her chicken noodle soup with no carrots and throw her the biggest birthday parties the world has ever seen.”
“Coy …”
Tears spill down his cheeks as he looks up at me. He struggles to maintain his composure.
I swallow my own emotions.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt better about myself than I do right now. Despite winning awards and selling out some of the country's biggest stadiums, tonight I feel incredible.
Joe believes in me. He has faith that I’m not a fuckup. He doesn’t care what other people say about me because he has confidence that I can be what Bellamy needs.
Fuck.
I take a deep breath to rein in my complicated feelings.
“That’s a yes, then, right?” I joke.
He laughs as he grabs a tissue from the box beside him. The takeout bag rustles as he moves.
“I can rest easy now,” Joe says, blotting his eyes.
“Not that easy.” I make a face. “If you die tonight or something, I’m not marrying her out of spite.”
He bursts out in a fit of laughter that makes him start to wheeze. The sound of the eruption causes Bellamy to run into the room.
“Oh, my gosh,” she says, looking terrified. “What’s happening? Is he okay?”
Joe’s body bounces in his chair as he dabs the tears streaming down his cheeks from both our moment and his coughing fit.
“He’s fine,” I say, tossing Joe a wink. “Swallowed wrong.”
Joe nods emphatically. Once he gets himself together, he pulls his daughter in for a hug.
“I love you, Bellamy,” he says.
“You, too, Daddy,” she says, pulling back. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m the best I’ve been in a long time.” He opens the bag. “Now you two get out of here so I can eat my chicken and watch my show. It’s time for Family Feud.”
Bellamy takes a deep breath. She wants to say something, but she’s struggling to find the words.
I lay an arm around her shoulders.
“I’ll get her out of here,” I tell him. “Enjoy your show.”
He waves his napkin in the air and doesn’t bother to look up.
“That’s our cue to leave,” I whisper to Bellamy.
She doesn’t look ready to go, but I take her hand and lead her out anyway.
I know she’s exhausted. I also know she likes time by herself when she’s overwhelmed, and hearing her dad opt in for the new medicine today undoubtedly overwhelmed her.
We walk toward the backyard. Bellamy doesn’t say anything. She just puts one foot in front of the other.
I stop at the path to the gate. “Want me to head to Mom’s?”
“What? No. I mean unless you want to.”
“You know I don’t want to,” I say, stepping toward her. “I want to be where you are.”
She nibbles her bottom lip before freeing it in a moment of determination. “I want you to be where I am too.”
“Good.” I take her hand and swing it between us as we walk to her house. “I’d have come right back anyway. I would’ve left you alone for ten minutes. Tops.”
She laughs as we enter her house.
“You hungry?” I ask since she didn’t order anything at the chicken place.
She shakes her head. “Do you mind if we just go lie down for a little while? My head hurts.”
“Lady, I never mind getting in your bed.”
We walk down the hallway in silence. We take off our shoes and climb into Bellamy’s bed without saying a word. She curls up next to me with her head in the crook of my arm and sighs.
I close my eyes. Her breathing evens out so smoothly that I wonder if she fell asleep.
I brush her hair off the side of her face so I can see her. Her lashes are so long, her cheeks the prettiest shade of pink.
How did I not realize I was in love with her forever ago?
“I appreciate that you went with us today,” she whispers.
“Stop thanking me.”
“But I … It means a lot to me.”
“Well, you mean a lot to me.”
The question is on the tip of my tongue. Asking Bellamy to be my wife could spill so easily from my lips if I let it. But shouldn’t that kind of thing be done with sparklers and fireworks?
I have no idea how to get engaged. I don’t even have a ring, and if I pop the question—the biggest question of my life—and don’t have Mom help me find the perfect ring, I’ll never hear the end of it.