“I absolutely did.”
I bit my lip, considering. “I’ve never really thought of myself as traditional, either. My dream was always a small, intimate wedding with just the people who really matter.” I paused. “And then traveling the world for the honeymoon. Seeing everything. Together.”
“Me too. That sounds perfect.”
I turned back to the mirror, my eyes dropping to the pregnancy test still sitting on the counter.
“Do you want to be a mom?” Owen asked quietly.
My gaze lifted, meeting his through the glass. I nodded slowly.
“I’ve always wanted to be a mom,” I admitted. “I just always thought it would be after I was married. After I had my life figured out. After...” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely at everything.
“After things were less chaotic?”
“Something like that.”
“And now?”
I took a breath. “Now I’m standing in a bathroom with a pregnancy test and a proposal and absolutely nothing figured out, and somehow...” I shook my head, marveling at the truth of what I was about to say. “Somehow, I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be.”
Owen pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Do you want to know if I want to be a dad?”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” The word was simple, certain. “The timing might not be perfect. We’re young. We’re not married… yet. There’s a lot we haven’t figured out. But if you’re pregnant, Harlow...” He turned me in his arms again, holding my gaze. “This baby will be loved. More than loved. This baby will have two parents who are completely, hopelessly, ridiculously in love with each other and with them. That’s not nothing.”
My eyes were burning again. “You’re going to make me cry.”
“Good tears, I hope.”
“The best kind.”
He smiled, soft and sure.
“I don’t want you to marry me because you’re pregnant,” he said carefully. “I want you to marry me because you want to spend your life with me. Because you can’t imagine a future that doesn’t include both of us, together, annoying each other until we’re old and gray and still arguing about who ate the last slice of pizza.”
“You ate it,” I reminded him.
“It was communal pizza.”
“That’s not how pizza works.”
“See?” His grin was blinding. “We’re already great at this.”
I laughed, the sound watery but genuine.
Owen stepped back, and before I could process what was happening, he dropped to one knee on the bathroom tile. The small space forced him to angle himself awkwardly, his knee bumping against the cabinet, but he didn’t seem to care.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He looked up at me, blue eyes shining. “Harlow Cruz. Will you fly to Vegas this weekend and marry me?”
“Owen...”
“Don’t take the test now,” he said quickly. “We’ll fly out Friday night. Spend the weekend in Vegas. Get married and then fly to Tennessee to see Jax and Kaia.”
“Are we going to tell them we’re dating, pregnant,andmarried all at the same time?” The words came out slightly hysterical. “That’s a lot of bombs to drop in one conversation.”
