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“Not happening,” she assured me, her smile as bright as the sun.
“In that case”—I took her hand in mine as I looked into her eyes, pulled out the ring I was carrying in my jeans, and rolled it between my fingers—“we should get married.”
Her lips parted, realization hitting her, but before she could say a damn word, I slipped the ring onto her finger. She looked at her hand and then at me.
"Huh?”
“You don’t like the ring?”
It was a gold ring with diamonds shaped like a horseshoe.
“Huh?” she repeated, dazed.
“Oh, just a minute.” I pulled out a gold chain from my pocket. “I know you can’t wear it on your finger when you work, so I got you a chain, and you can tuck it under your…hey, baby.”
She was crying now. Tears flowed down her face, small sobscoming out of her.
“Baby, if you don’t like the ring, we’ll get a new one,” I teased.
“Don’t you dare.” She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Good. It took me a hell of a time getting it made.” I kissed her nose. “The jewelry designer kept asking if I’d like something else besides a horseshoe, and I kept saying that’s the fuckin’ thing I want. These artist types are so temperamental and?—”
She flung her arms around me and kissed every inch of my face. “I love you,” she murmured repeatedly.
I fell to my back, and she straddled me. She looked at her ring, her eyes wide with excitement.
I watched her, knowing that happiness like this was precious, and I would never ever take it for granted. I’d hold it close, hold it clean. "You once told me I wasn’t of the land anymore. That I’d given it up."
She nodded, her eyes shining, the river reflected in them like the whole damn world was watching—like the land, the sky, and everything between had paused just for this moment.
"This place—this land—this life"—I let out a ragged breath—"is in my blood. Same as it’s in yours. And I don’t want any of it without you."
She pressed a hand to her chest like she was afraid her heart might just give out.
“We’re going to get married?” She sounded like the girl I’d first loved right here on this riverbank: excited, happy, and innocent.
“Yeah, baby.”
She bit her lower lip. “I have something, too.”
“Yeah?” My heart began to beat fast. I couldn’t wait for her to tell me we were going to become parents.
She let the moment stretch. Then, finally, she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
My heart damn near stopped. I pulled her down, kissing her like I’d been waiting for her, for this, my whole damn life. “You make me so fuckin’ happy,Florecita.”
“Welcome home,mi cielo,” she whispered against my mouth.
We made love because, hell, there were a lot of emotions—joy, relief, everything in between—and sometimes the only way to work through all that was with a good, hard fuck.
When I told Elena that, she groaned, “You’re such a romantic. I’m sure you didn’t talk like this with your other women…like Fiona.”
“You’re right. They got flowery bullshit.”
“I just get?—”
“Honest shit,” I joked.