Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,3
want to give you more.”
“We’re both getting more. We’re going to have everything.”
“Then why can’t we just get married and let everything begin now? Today.” We’d had this conversation over and over, but Casey was insistent. Like me, I supposed. He wanted it his way.
“Because you deserve more than that. So do I. It would feel cheap to me.”
My arm around his neck, I spun his hair around my finger.
“Cheap?”
“Yeah. We’ve been through so much, and now to run off and get married at the courthouse, like we’re ashamed—well, it feels wrong. I want to give you things. Things you’ve never had. And I want to share every precious moment with you that I’ve never had.”
“I’m a divorcee,” I painfully reminded him.
“I’m sick of hearing that excuse.” His hand stilled.
“It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth. I can’t give you my firsts. I gave them to …” I didn’t have to finish. I didn’t want to finish. The facts made me ill.
“Did you mean it? Did you mean any of it with him?” His voice was still butter-smooth, but he was being firm with me. I liked the feel of the familiar push and pull we were so good at, even if I wasn’t sure if I understood his logic.
Memories of my first wedding trickled into my head. Ironically, they all had to do with Casey. Him coming to me that morning. Our fight. Thinking that I’d imagined him at the ceremony.
“I hope you have to pretend it’s me to walk down the aisle.”
Which I did.
“No,” I confessed in the dark. I could give him that. It was true; he was the only man I’d ever wanted to marry. I kissed his chest.
“Then it doesn’t fucking count, honeybee. Do you love me?”
I brought my mouth to his and answered, “I do. I love you so much, but I want to show you I’m yours. I want to be yours in every way.”
“I want that too. But not out of some sense of obligation. Not because you think you owe me. And don’t try to say that’s not some of your rush. It is. I know you, Blake. I know how you think. It’s a hobby of mine.” He kissed my forehead and then my nose. “I’m an expert-level Blake enthusiast.”
“Then tell me what you want.” I climbed closer, desperate to give him something. “Anything. All you have to do is name it.”
“Okay.” His voice lifted, levity finding him, like he was getting ready to read me his Christmas list. “Okay. I’m going to tell you this stuff, and number one, you can’t laugh at me. And number two, you can’t freak out and force all of it to happen.”
“Okay, tell me.”
He cupped my face with his warm palms and pushed his forehead against mine. “Promise. Promise me telling you all of this won’t make you crazy.”
“I promise. Now get on with it.”
“I want to propose to you when it’s special. I don’t know how. God, I’ve pictured doing it so many ways.” He laughed. “The number of fantasy proposals I’ve had are starting to rival the other fantasies I have with you.”
I giggled. He was cute and the excitement in his voice did make me crazy. He was right. I was going to move heaven and earth to give him everything he wanted. Then I thought, that was kind of perfect. Wasn’t that love? Wanting to be and do and give everything you could to make the other’s wildest dreams come true?
“What else?” I prodded.
“Did you have a bachelorette party? Because I totally want a bachelor party. One last hurrah, you know?” He rocked into me to let me know he was only half kidding.
“I’ll give you one last hurrah.”
“And I think I want one of those couple’s showers where everyone comes over to one house, or we go out to a restaurant, and they all tell us how cute we are and give us presents. Can we register for stuff? I think we can. Micah and Cory didn’t do all that fun shit, but I heard them talking about it. I was like, free shit and a party? Yeah. I’m doing that.”
I was mentally taking notes. The positivity poured from him. No more doubts. No more guilt. No more questioning if this was real.
“And for the wedding, I think I want to do something outside.” His voice was hesitant, but then he added, “I know what you’re thinking and stop. It’ll be different than before. And absolutely, under no