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The Florist and the Fighter

Page 170

by Amy McGavin

Briony comes round the counter. “Hello, you. How was the gym?”

“Aye, good.” I straighten. Penny leans against my shins. “Me and Davie got talking, actually. It got me thinking.”

“Consider me intrigued. About what?”

“Do you want weans?”

Her eyes go wide.

“No right now, obviously,” I say. “But at some point.”

She stares at me for a second. Then her face softens. “Yes, I do. Not now, like you say. But someday? Yeah. What about you?”

“Before I met you, it was a hard no. But…aye. I think maybe I do.”

Her lips curve into a small smile, and she reaches for my hand. “What changed your mind?”

“Honestly? Watching you hold Kovac’s wean at the charity gala. Well, that’s when I first started to think about it, no that I was thinking about it seriously back then. I didnae think I’d be any good at it. But Davie? He reckons I’d be all right.”

“He’s a wise man, is Davie. I’m inclined to agree with him. In fact, I think you’d be a great dad.”

“Aye? Well, you’d be the best maw. But like we said, no right now. We’d want to get married first. Enjoy married life for a year or two.”

Briony’s mouth falls open. She was surprised when I brought up weans. This is something else entirely.

“Sorry. Marriage?”

Her gaze drops, and I realise I’m standing in her shop in my gym gear with a dog stuck to my legs.

“Just an idea,” I say. “Obviously, I’d propose properly, wi’ a suit and that. Just thought I’d see where your head is at.”

“Right. Well. It’d be a yes. Were you to ask.”

I nod. “Good to know.”

“A suit is an interesting choice, though. You said you loved me for the first time when you were inside me.”

“That’s true. Thought I might mix things up. Keep you on your toes.”

“I see.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “You’re doing a good job of it so far. I wasn’t expecting this conversation today.”

“Fancy a kiss?”

“Always.”

She goes up on her tiptoes, and I lean down to kiss her.

EPILOGUE

BRIONY

Five years later

“Anybody for more?” Mum asks, doing another circuit of the garden with a plate of cake. “There’s plenty left. Liam? Imran?”

“Aye, go on,” Liam says.

“Wouldnae say no, Kathy,” Imran says.