I got chill bumps all over my arms. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d dreamed about this moment, of Frank being down on one knee, of him asking me to be his wife. And now, in front of the boat that represented the future I was moving into, I couldn’t imagine anything being better.
“Diana, I love you.”
I wanted to say I loved him too, but my throat was so clogged with tears I couldn’t talk. But my heart was about to bust wide open with joy and love for this man I’d held there for all those years.
“All I’ve wanted since the minute I laid eyes on you was to be with you for the rest of my life. I don’t want to screw it up again. I don’t want to run away again. I just want to love you until my last breath. Please, Diana, from the bottom of my heart. Please marry me.”
He put this pretty, shiny diamond on my shaking hand. He stood up and we kissed, and I didn’t even know what to do, but I started to realize that all these people, they were standingaround looking at us, and a few even clapped. One walked up and said, “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”
It was like time stood still and flew by right at the same time. I couldn’t even comprehend that this was happening. This was real. It wasn’t a dream. He had asked me to marry him. I was going to be Frank’s wife. I was going to have Frank’s baby. He was going to be all mine. They both were. I just stared down at the pretty ring he’d put on my finger, one of them antique-looking ones with a bigger diamond in the middle and a couple of smaller ones on the sides. Oh, it was beautiful. We were walking again toward Full Circle, where we were having dinner, and Frank stopped.
“Babe,” he said. “Do you know you haven’t said yes yet?”
I laughed. “Oh.” I turned and smiled and kissed him. I felt that familiar fear that maybe this was too good to be true, that this could all be taken away, that it could be over as quickly as it started. But my girls had said, and I knew it too, that living in fear wasn’t a life. “Yes, Frank. Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you and have your baby and love you with all I’ve got until the second I die. The rest of my life isn’t enough for how much love I’ve got to lay on you.”
He laughed and kissed me again. “Well, then, I’d say that pretty much sums it up.”
I couldn’t believe it. A couple of months ago, I was homeless, single, jobless, and utterly alone in the world. And now, I was engaged, pregnant, and had family coming out my ears. It was such a huge reminder that, even when the chips are down, life can change in an instant.
CHAPTER 18
gray: the kool-aid
“So is your sister in jail often?” Price asked as we stepped into his car.
“Used to be,” I said under my breath.
“What?”
“She used to get in trouble kind of a lot, and then she found this man who I swear is a cult leader, drank the Kool-Aid, and runs around tossing pamphlets in everyone’s faces.”
“Pamphlets, huh?”
I pulled the visor down and checked my lip gloss in the mirror, though I’m not sure why. Maybe in case I needed to sweet-talk someone to get my sister out of the slammer. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Yeah, you know, like on abstinence before marriage, even though she slept with everyone on the Eastern Seaboard before this transformation. Pamphlets about how I’m going to hell because I’m getting divorced. You know, light reading like that.”
I was trying to be cool and a little snarky, but inside I was reeling. What in the hell had my sister done? Was she okay? Was this Elijah-related? Did I need a lawyer for her? Yeah, she’d done me wrong, but Diana was right. It didn’t matter what she did. I was her big sister, and it was my job to pick up the pieces, whatever they might be.
I laughed in spite of my nerves, and Price joined me. “So, this is impressive, right? I mean, I’m sure you’re just dying to take me out now.”
“Actually,” he said, “this is the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
“That is sad,” I said, checking my phone again. “Let’s talk about something else. Let’s pretend that we are driving to, say, a movie, not to pick my sister up from jail.”
“Great,” he said. “So, do you prefer Charmin or Angel Soft?”
“What?”
He glanced over at me and grinned. “These are the important questions. I lived with a woman for fifteen years who liked Angel Soft. So every day for fifteen years I had to wipe my ass with a toilet paper I hated. It’s just toilet paper, but, damn. I’m not going back to that.”
I laughed. “Who the hell likes Angel Soft? Charmin all day, baby. But I do switch it up between ultra soft and ultra strong, you know, just to keep things interesting.”
Price stopped at a red light and looked at me, wide-eyed in amazement. “Me too. I mean, sometimes you need softness and sometimes you need strength.”
“Paper towels?” I asked.
“Ninety percent Bounty, ten percent Viva.”
“Oh my gosh,” I said. “Me too.”
