“No she won’t,” I whisper. He pulls me toward the dance floor. He presses his forehead to mine and takes a deep breath.
“I’m ready,” I whisper. My hands shake and my knees feel weak. What if he just said he wanted us to live together and to get married and have babies because he was lost in the moment of our first time and it was real but not in a right now kind of way? What if he’s not ready?
“For what, baby?” he says. His eyes are still closed, and he’s still got his forehead pressed to mine. It’s so intimate and beautiful that I hate to share this moment with the world, even if nobody’s paying attention to us.
“I’m ready to steal your pillow in our bed and to wake up to your morning breath. I’m ready for my dad to give me away, and I can’t wait until I have your last name and your babies, because this . . .” Tears fall down my cheeks, and I have to stop to gasp for breath. “Because this is what my love looks like—ready for everything, always.”
When I open my eyes and pull back from him just a bit, I see that I’m not the only one totally moved by our moment. His eyes are red, and he swallows hard. He’s breathing heavy, and his face scrunches like he wants to smile but is afraid it’s not real. I don’t want to force him, though, so I’m quick to continue. “But I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, because even the tiniest little bit of you is better than nothing at all.”
“I don’t have a ring yet,” he says with a laugh, and he finally smiles. His hands find their way into my hair, and he holds me so our lips are nearly touching.
“Didn’t expect you to,” I whisper on an excited laugh. “We kind of skipped the dating. You’re understandably ill-prepared.”
“Baby,” he says on a groan and leans in and kisses me.
I might be crazy, but I swear I think his eyes are wet. I can’t be sure, though, because I’m a sobbing mess, but I’m tempted to think he’s crying. I hiccup, interrupting our kiss, and when I focus in on his eyes, I totally lose it and cry even harder. I reach up and try to discreetly wipe away the tears that are pooling in the corner of his eyes.
“You want to marry me,” I say, still kind of in shock.
“No, Lulu. I am marrying you. And soon. We skipped the whole dating thing—might as well skip the long engagement part.”
I suck in a deep breath and shake my head at this beautiful man who is more than I deserve and everything that I never knew existed but always secretly hoped for.
A startling loud fire alarm shocks me back to reality. It takes a moment, but Jameson straightens and goes into hero mode. He pulls me through the chaos that erupts in the room until we find my dad and mom. On our path, he pulls out his mobile and enacts the family phone tree. Jack assures him that everybody is together and safe and on their way out of the building, so he breathes a sigh of relief.
“I’ve called up my car,” Dad says to Jameson. “Monica will go with Claire, and Melanie. I’ll stay behind to help with crowd control.”
“You don’t have to, Chris,” Jameson says, but Dad blows him off.
Jameson leads me outside with my hand tucked safely in his. On the sidewalk, we see Claire and Royal huddled together. They visibly relax when they see us. We convince Royal to come with us, even though she first refuses in order to wait for her sister and mother, but Jameson doesn’t let her get away with it. He says, “I’ll feel safer if Mel is with you.”
Dad’s stretched town car arrives without his driver getting out. There’s no time for formalities of opening our doors and greeting us each individually. Mom climbs in first, followed by Claire, then me, and then Royal. I hate to let Jameson go, but once we pull away from the curb, he’s off with Dad trying to secure the building.
Mom gets on the in-car intercom and communicates with the driver on the other side of the darkened glass. She instructs him to take us home, but he overshoots our neighborhood and hops on Henry Hudson Parkway, I come to the sickening realization that something is very, very wrong here. Mom frantically presses the button to lower the glass in order to berate our driver. The glass wheezes, but stays in place.
I want to panic, but everything gets really foggy and confusing. I look around the car to Claire beside me. Her eyes are fluttering closed, and across from me, Royal has her hand over her mouth. She elbows at the glass that separates us and the driver but it does no good. I follow the flow my mom’s line of sight to the air vents, which are going full blast. A pungent odor blows fiercely and covers us. Mom slinks down in her seat as her eyes close. My body is so heavy, but I force myself to lean over and grab a hold of Mom’s wrist. Her pulse is still steady and strong, and her chest rises and falls in a peaceful rhythm. I look back to Claire and Royal and see them both pass out. Shit. I scream at the top of my lungs and kick against the door but lose the ability to, and just as a fresh batch of tears slide down my cheeks, I lose myself to the world.
Chapter 23