Then I hit call.
She answers on the second ring.
“Well, this is a surprise,” she says. “Everything okay?”
I look at my hand again.
Then I start crying.
“Oh no,” she says immediately. “Laney, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not—” I laugh and cry at the same time. “I’m not hurt. The baby’s fine. Everyone’s fine.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because Saint asked me to marry him.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then:
A shriek.
A full, unrestrained, delighted shriek that makes me pull the phone away from my ear.
“He WHAT?!”
“He asked me to marry him,” I repeat, laughing now. “And I said yes.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. OH MY GOD. I KNEW IT. I KNEW HE WOULD BUT I DIDN’T KNOW WHEN BUT I KNEW—”
I sink onto the couch, smiling so hard my face hurts.
“He did it in the living room,” I say. “Just… him. And me. And Emmy yelling in the background.”
“Of course he did,” she says. “That man would propose like he’s making a vow to the Constitution.”
“He was so nervous,” I say softly. “He tried not to be. But he was.”
“Oh, I love that for you.”
I look toward the nursery.
Saint is sitting in the rocker with Emmy, his big hand wrapped gently around her tiny fingers.
“He looks like he’s afraid the world might take us back if he blinks,” I say.
She softens. “He won’t let it.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s the thing. I finally know.”
“So when’s the wedding?”she asks immediately.
I laugh. “I literally got engaged an hour ago.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m emotionally six months ahead of you.”
I hold my hand up again and turn it so the light hits the ring.
