“This is perfect,” she whispers, wrapping her arm around me. “I’m kind of sad Christmas is over.”
“We’ll get to do it again next year.”
She looks at me with a smile. “Are you sure you want that?”
“More than anything. I want you next year. And the year after that. And the one after that. Actually,” I start and get up, extending a hand. Scarlet takes it, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I love you, Scarlet Cooper. This isn’t how I planned it, because I don’t even have a ring yet, but you’re right. This is perfect.”
“Wes, what are you—”
I get down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”
The blanket slides off her shoulders and tears fill her eyes. She stares at me in disbelief, and for a moment I think I asked too soon.
Then the biggest smile takes over her face. “Yes! Yes, of course I will marry you!”
I get up and pull her into my arms. “I love you. Today, tomorrow, and every day after that. I will always love you.”EpilogueScarletSix months later…“Thank you so much,” Quinn says, pushing her messy hair out of her face and takes Emma from my arms. “With Archer’s parents up in Michigan visiting Bobby and my own consumed with construction on the hospital, I’m struggling.”
“It’s no big deal.” I look down at Jackson. “We had fun. Emma was perfect.”
Quinn raises an eyebrow in disbelief. Now that she’s over a year and is walking, Emma is a handful. And poor Quinn has been puking nonstop pretty much since the day she conceived her second child. She said she went through the same thing with Emma, making me question her sanity on getting pregnant again.
“Is Archer going to be home soon?”
“Yeah, thankfully.” We move into Quinn’s house, which is far from neat and tidy like it usually is. I hope when I’m finally pregnant I don’t get hit with morning sickness like this.
Right after Wes proposed we started trying in a sense. I knew it would take a miracle to knock me up, but I was hopeful. We had a small but beautiful wedding on Valentine’s Day, and then I had a sit down with my OB to talk about what was really wrong with me. After a slew of tests, I’ve been taking fertility drugs and we’ve still had no luck.
I know many couples try much longer than we have, but it’s starting to really weigh on me. Jackson is dying for a sibling.
“How’s your sister?” Quinn asks, sinking down on the couch in the family room. Three of her six cats are in here, lounging around.
“She’s doing pretty well, actually. I think the group home is a good adjustment for her. She got a job last week at a bookstore.”
“That’s great!”
“Baby steps, but a step is a step.” Heather got out of prison last month. Around the New Year she started going to a church group with a few other inmates and it actually turned her around. She still goes to church and is currently living in a group home for troubled young adults with mental health issues. She’s still in Chicago, but we try to see each other at least once a week.
“When will your belly get big?” Jackson asks, looking at Quinn’s stomach.
Quinn puts her hand on her belly. “You’ll probably notice a baby bump in a month or so. I’ve heard you show sooner with the second.”
“You’re totally going to be one of those pregnant ladies who’s all belly and boob, aren’t you?” I ask.
Quinn smiles. “I was last time.” She makes a sour face and then gets up, rushing to the bathroom to throw up. Jackson and I stay a little longer, waiting to leave until Archer gets home. He thanks me as well for helping out with Emma today so Quinn can rest.
“Are you tried?” I ask Jackson when we get home. “I’m tired. Emma wore me out.”
“I’m not tired,” he says with a yawn. “Can I go play now?”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”
He goes upstairs and I have every intention of starting dinner, but I fall asleep on the couch, not waking until Wes comes home.
“You feeling okay, babe?” he asks when I get up.
“Yeah, I’ve been tired all day. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
Wes raises his eyebrows. “Or maybe…”
“I wish.” I shake my head. I’ve been pretty good about waiting until after my period is supposed to begin before taking a test.
“You’ve been tired all week.”
“That’s just one symptom,” I remind him, though after watching poor Quinn puke her brains out I just kind of assumed I’d be like that too and I’d know with absolute certainty that I was pregnant.
Still, Wes’s question hangs over me throughout dinner. And dessert. And bedtime. So much so that I break a rule and bust out a test.