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“Yes.” Nicola hesitated. She hated that night when Abagail had used it. It hadn’t been right between them then. They’d worked on their shit and were finally in a good place—a great place—but that didn’t mean that Nicola wanted to remember that night.

“Marry me.” Abagail eyed her seriously.

Nicola shook her head. “I was being an ass back then.”

“You were,” Abagail agreed. “But so was I.”

“I didn’t want you to say it,” Nicola whispered.

“Say what?” Abagail asked.

“You know what.” Nicola’s cheeks burned. Were they really having this conversation again? She’d thought it was enough after the New Year’s party, when Abagail had come home in such an odd mood. But adding this into it? “Don’t you dare say it.”

“Marry me.”

“I told you not to say it,” Nicola hissed.

“No, Nic.” Abagail smiled.

She fumbled around in her purse before presenting a ring box.Thering box that Nicola had returned to her nearly a year ago when Warren couldn’t be man enough to meet her. Nicola just stared at it, so unsure of what to say or do or where to even look. What the hell was happening?

“Marry me,” Abagail repeated, her voice dropping at the end of the word.

“But you don’t love me.” Nicola flicked her gaze to meet Abagail’s eyes. “And you don’t want to get married.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” Abagail’s lips twitched. “And you get to reap the benefits.”

“Abs.” Nicola laughed with a shake of her head. “You aren’t someone who just changes her mind—ever.”

“You’re right.” Abagail reached for the glass of wine, and she took a long sip from it. “I don’t change my mind.”

“You don’t want to get married.” Nicola kept her hands in her lap, not daring to reach up and actually touch the ring box. If she opened it and if she looked inside, her heart was going to shatter in new and unexpected ways. She wasn’t sure that she’d live through that.

“Nicola, what did I just say?” Abagail reached across the table and took Nicola’s hand in her own.

This was sonormal. It was so out of the usual for the two of them. Nicola always tried to keep that last wall up, the one that wouldn’t get her hurt in this way again. She couldn’t have the dream of marrying someone be shuttered at the altar again—not that she and Warren had made it that far. She pursed her lips and shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes.

“No.”

“No?” Abagail repeated, surprise in her voice. “No, you won’t marry me?”

“No,” Nicola repeated.

“I’m confused now.” Abagail stole her hand away, pressing her napkin down in her lap. Her cheeks were drawn, and her face tight.

Had Nicola just hurt her by her answer? She couldn’t have, could she? “I don’t understand,” Nicola tried again. “What are we doing?”

“Marry me, Nic.” Abagail looked at her directly and surely. “I want to marry you.”

“But why?” Nicola closed her mouth then, determined to listen only for the answer and nothing else. She wanted Abagail’s honesty now, and she was sure that she’d get it. At least to the extent that Abagail understood it herself.

“So many reasons.” Abagail’s lips quirked upward.

Nicola waited. And Abagail didn’t continue. She swallowed the lump in her throat and reached for her wine glass and sipped it while staring Abagail down. Maybe that would get some answers coming her direction. But still, Abagail was silent.

“All right, tell me why I should want to marry you,” Nicola finally said, giving her tone an edge so that Abagail would understand just how frustrated she was right now.

“Because you love me.”