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“I was thinking we should marry at the Butterfly Cottage,” I blurted, wanting to shift the conversation away from the horrors of our time in Italy.
She smiled. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“When?”
Pen smiled. “I guess whenever we want to.”
“How’s tomorrow?”
This time, she laughed. “I arranged your birthday party on a flight from California to New York; I suppose I can arrange our wedding in a day.”
“I won’t rush you, my love. Take all the time you need. And by that, I mean by the end of the week.”
“Done. Now, let’s keep working on growing our family.”
We were lying side by side, naked under the bedclothes. “Is that what we’ve been doing?”
“Don’t be mad, but I stopped taking birth control after you proposed.”
“Mad? I’m ecstatic! My God, that means you could already be pregnant.”
She smiled and nodded. “You’re right. I could be, but just in case I’m not, let’s keep trying.”