“Waking up with you in my arms,” he answered. “I like it. A lot.”
Her cheeks immediately flushing, she struggled to escape his hug, but he held tight.
“Wait,” he said. “Let’s snuggle for a little while.”
She relaxed against him, but worried, as usual. “I need to get ready to leave—pack, clean up the house.”
“Just a few minutes. I need to tell you something.”
She stiffened in his hold. “What is it?”
“First, let me ask you a question.”
“Okay.” Her tone was wary, like she was facing an inquisition.
“Do you like me?” he asked.
The seconds of silence that followed seemed like hours.
“Yes, but—”
“Great! That’s a step in the right direction.”
“What direction is that?” she asked.
“Commitment,” he answered. “Long term. I’ll wait to say the M-word, but that’s the direction.”
She bolted upright, out of his grasp. “We can’t do this! I didn’t even agree to date you when we get back to New York.”
“Yes, but your excuses are based on faulty reasoning.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my reasoning.”
Her eyes threw darts at him, but he laughed them away.
“Yes, there is, because you don’t have all the facts.”
“Who are you to say I don’t know the facts?”
Adjusting his position until he was sitting beside her, he reached for her hand. Though she resisted at first, she relented, and he lifted her fingers to his lips.
“You don’t know all the facts,” he said, “because the fact is I love you.”
“You can’t,” she sputtered. “You barely know me.”
“Oh, I know you.” His hand moved under her chin, tilting her face up. “You’re the woman who cares so deeply for people, even those she’s just met, that she risks her life for them. The one who sees me for who I am, instead of the cancer I have. The woman who showed me life is about what you do for others, instead of tally marks on your bucket list.”
“That’s probably…” she sniffed, swiping at her eyes, “the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“So, are you in?” he asked, eagerly, squeezing her hand.
“I’m willing to consider dating, as long as we take it really slowly.”
“I’m afraid that’s going to be a problem,” Gary said. “After almost dying, I don’t really like wasting time. I think New Year’s Eve is about as long as I’m willing to wait.”
“You want to be engaged by New Year’s Eve? That’s only six months from now.”
“No, no, no, no, no.” Gary cupped her face and kissed her like he meant it, claiming her with his lips until there could be no doubt of his feelings. Then he pulled away and observed her swollen lips with pride. “I’m not a wimp like Joseph who wants a five-year engagement while he debates whether or not he can commit. I’m committed now, and I intended to marry you on or before New Year’s Eve.”