Out of all the scenarios he’d prepared for, that response wasn’t among them. “Of course not.”
Doreen wiggled free, tugging the bedsheets and blanket with her. She sat back against his headboard. “I’m not going to allow Nessa or anyone to pressure me into getting married.”
It was as though she hadn’t heard him. “I’m not pressuring you. I’m proposing.”
“Marriage isn’t something to be taken lightly.”
“So I’ve heard.” Alonzo pushed himself up to sit beside her. He was suddenly aware of the chill in the room.
“As much as I loved Paul, marriage is a lot of work.”
“I’m sure it is.”
Doreen gave him a hard stare. “Are you mocking me?”
“No, Doreen. I’m telling you that I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“But we don’t have to be married to do that.” Doreen clutched the sheet to her chest with one fist. “Forget Nessa. She’s not the morality police.”
“This isn’t about Nessa.” The pain in his chest was sharp, hot and deep, making it difficult to speak. “It’s about you and me, and the fact that I’ve wanted to marry you for more than forty years.”
“Alonzo, I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know? Whether you love me? Whether you want to spend the rest of your life with me or whether you want to marry me?”
She looked stricken. “I care about you.”
Oh no. Not the I-care-about-you speech.
“You said that to me forty years ago.” Alonzo threw back the covers and marched to his closet. He grabbed his robe from one of the hooks and tugged it on. “I care about you, too, Doreen. I care so much that I want to be your husband. I want you to be my wife. What is it that you want?”
“I need time to think.”
Time to think.
Was he rushing her? Doreen’s husband of more than thirty years had died less than two years ago. Maybe he was being impatient.
“You’re right.” Alonzo belted his robe. He turned toward the door. “I’m sorry I rushed you.”
“Where are you going?”
Alonzo spoke over his shoulder. “I need a glass of water.”
More than that, he needed time to handle his disappointment. Doreen hadn’t rejected him. She’d just put him on hold. But how much more time would she need to realize they were each other’s happily-ever-after? What more could he do or say to convince her?
“Are you free for lunch, son?” Simon’s voice came from behind Darius.
Surprised, he turned to face his father, who stood in the entrance to his cubicle at the Monitor’s office Monday morning. Darius’s mind had been a million miles away. Well, not a million. The Guiding Light Community Center was only seven miles away. That’s where Darius was meeting Peyton at eleven-thirty. After a tour of the center, they were having lunch at Books & Bakery.
“I’m afraid not. I have other plans.” Darius stood and shrugged into his c
oat.
“Are you having lunch with your mother?” Simon sounded hopeful.
Darius rubbed his eyes with his thumb and two fingers. His parents’ relationship had gone from bad to almost intolerable. He’d thought things would get better if they weren’t together. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
“I’m meeting Peyton for lunch. We’re cochairing the committee to raise money for the community center.” Darius buttoned his black wool topcoat. It was the first of December. Temperatures had nosedived over Thanksgiving weekend.