“Me, too. And we both need beating hearts.”
“Yes. For when we walk down the aisle together on our wedding day.”
“Wow. That was fast.” I smiled at him through the darkness.
“It’s not fast at all. In second grade, I told the whole class we would be getting married. They fought over who would be the flower girl. I always assumed we would be married, Bellini. I would have married you right out of high school.”
“I wish we had.” He held me closer and dropped a kiss on my lips. He was warm and snuggly. Then he reached over the side of the bed, found his jeans on the floor, and pulled out a ringbox. He slipped out of bed and got down on one knee as I sat my naked self up.
“Bellini Mae O’Donnell, would you please make me the happiest man in Montana and marry me?”
I didn’t need to see that ring when he opened the box. I reached for him and planted a big smackeroo on his lips. “Yes. A thousand times yes. I love you so much, Logan. I have always, always loved you.”
“And I, you. I always have and I always will.”
He put the ring on my finger. It slipped right on. It was sparkly and glittery, even in the dusky night. Truly, it’s the prettiest ring I’ve ever seen.
“Thank you, Logan.” I cupped his face with my hands. He knew I wasn’t only thanking him for the ring. I was thanking him for himself. For our love. For the life we’d have together.
“Thank you, Bellini.” His face was serious, like mine.
“Merry Christmas, Logan.”
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
We decided to seal our serious deal in a carnal way.
Again.
38
Logan
Logan kissed Bellini as she slept beside him in her bed, the moonlight shining in over the mountains. He had never felt more at peace.She said yes.She would be his wife. They would have a family together and grow old on a porch with rocking chairs. It was what he’d always wanted. He teared up and then told himself to “man up.” He stared out the windows into the night.
She murmured something about octopuses, and he laughed, then hugged her close, grateful, so very, very grateful.
She had agreed with him that they did not need a long engagement. He said a month should do it. She laughed. He was serious.
“How about two months? I have to write a book.”
“Sixty days it is, then, m’lady,” he told her.
“Okay, baby.” She kissed him.
There was no one like Bellini.
Finally, after many long, lonely years, Logan Hamilton was happy.
39
Bellini
A week later, over our morning coffee at the kitchen table, our property glistening from a fresh snowfall, my mother told me that I could not work at the bar for one more day. I argued with her, but she knows me well.
“You’ve put in your time, Bellini. Since you were five years old. You were such a dedicated employee. You could hardly see above the table when you made martinis…” Her tone became wistful. “And your salads! Works of art the way you arranged the tomatoes in a star pattern, the croutons just so. And don’t get me started on your whipped-cream skills with our famous banana splits…”
“Mom, no. I know you need help.” But I sucked in a breath. I felt relief, then a huge wave of guilt for feeling that relief.
