“But what if I die before then?” Dad looked legitimately concerned about it, and if I didn’t know him so well, I’d fear he had some secret fatal illness. But he didn’t need that to worry. He worried about everything. It was almost like he’d been abducted years ago by financial planner aliens and had permanent fear implanted in his head.
Clay gestured to my mom. “Then you leave the company to Charlotte, and let her sort it out. But don’t die.”
Dad nodded, looking repentant and proud, all at the same time. “You’re a good one, Clay.”
“Took you long enough to realize it, Dad.” I leaned into Clay.
We Harwoods could only take so much mushy, so it was no surprise when Connor stood, bouncing Jax in his arms. “Sounds like we have a plan. Sorry about the carpet.” Connor murmured something to Melissa, and they began gathering up all their assorted mess.
“We’ll get these shirts back to you, Clay.” Melissa tiptoed over and kissed my forehead. “I want all the dirty details, girl. Call me later.”
Oh, I would. She’d hear about Noble, too, and his obnoxious flowers.
Once they left, the conversation immediately went back to shop talk, and when Clay and I planned to get back into work today. I’d been unemployed for an hour, and my dad made it sound like I was wasting my life away.
After a few minutes, I somewhat lovingly shooed Dad, Mom, and Parker towards the door. “Dad, you told Noble I was available for a lunch date today, so don’t give me this crap about missing work. We’ll be back when we’re back.”
I shut the door on them and turned around to face Clay.
His eyebrow raised. “Noble asked you out?”
“Yeah. I turned him down. He didn’t take it well.”
“And I missed it?”
“A year, huh?” I said, changing the subject. Ain’t nobody had time for Noble Tuttle—not for a lunch date, and not in this conversation, when we had more important things to discuss.
Clay shrugged, looking sort of self-conscious. “I didn’t exactly run that plan by you, did I?”
“I’m not mad, I’m just curious why a year.Where do you see us in a year?”
“Hopefully ready for ownership.”
“Well, yeah. But where do you see the two of us in a year?” I inched closer to Clay, which added to his nervousness about where I was going with this.
“The two of us?” Clay’s voice cracked a little, making me want to dig harder.
“Yeah, the two of us.”
“I see us happy. Don’t you?”
I smiled. “I do.”
“Good.” Clay kissed me, thinking the conversation was over.
I waited until he moved to the kitchen to look for something for us to eat. This was our lunch date, after all.
“Clay, do you see us married in a year?”
“What?” He whirled around and studied me carefully, likely waiting for the punchline. The fact that it was hope he was trying to conceal from me, and not panic, did something to my insides. He wanted to marry me. He did. His eyes said someday, like he’d been picturing it all along, and was only waiting until I could see it, too.
He approached me and poked me lightly in the side. “Don’t make jokes about the M word, Laur.”
“I’m not.” And I wasn’t. I bit my lip. I’d have to be careful with my wording. He’d offered me his heart only recently, and I intended to take good care of it for a long time. But that also meant being honest about the state of mine. “I’m not saying I’m ready. I’m just saying, it’s not… off the table.”
It was Clay’s turn to look mischievous. He’d sensed my nervousness, and he stared into my eyes, daring me to admit it. He could stare all day for all I cared. I’d admit nothing.
“Maybe we need an in-between term.” Clay got down on one knee, and he wouldn’t get up no matter how much I tugged on him. “What? Am I making you nervous?”
