We hang out in the kitchen while Katherine puts the finishing touches on dinner. Jonah steals pieces of food off the counter and she slaps his hand. For the first time, I see Jonah as a boy while he playfully teases his mom. I laugh as she reprimands him for drinking milk straight from the carton. She fills him in on his sister and her husband. He laughs at the stories about his nephews getting into trouble.
I’m nothing more than a spectator to this beautiful display of family. I watch in silence as envy piggybacks my happiness.
After a delicious meal, I excuse myself to clean the kitchen so Jonah and his mom can have some time alone. Drying the last dish and putting it away, I head straight to Jonah’s garage for some quiet time with the Impala.
With my hair pulled back, I plug the iPod into the dock and allow the music to wash through my body, taking with it the multitude of conflicted emotions tumbling in my chest.
Some of the music from Jonah’s iPod is familiar, but one song catches my attention. I read the name on the screen as “Halo” by Beyonce. It seems Beyonce knows a thing or two about my situation, as her words become my heart’s anthem. I put the song on repeat and turn back to the car to bury myself in work.
Lost in the combination of my work and the music, I jump at the sound of the door opening. How long have I been in here?
“I knew I’d find you here.” He wraps me in a hug. His body is warm and comforting.
“I wanted to give you and your mom some time alone. I thought I’d come out here until she went to bed.”
He sits on the hood of the Impala, propping his heels on the bumper and pulling me between his legs.
“My mom is in love with you.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “She flat out told me that if I didn’t marry you she’d disown me. I think she likes you more than she likes me.”
My cheeks warm. “She’s incredible, Jonah.”
“I’m glad you think so. You know, I was kinda hoping that someday she’d be your mother-in-law.”
My eyes flash to his and a slow smile pulls at my lips. Holy crud. Is he asking what I think he’s asking?
“Whaddya say? You feel like droppin’ Morretti for good?”
Twenty-seven
Jonah
I’m not breathing. I’m waiting.
She’s staring at me like I sprouted horns . . . and a tail.
I just asked her to marry me. Sure it wasn’t your candlelight dinner, down on one knee, shed a tear kind of proposal. But it was a proposal. I don’t know what came over me. It just came out. I don’t regret the words, but fuck. What kind of a dick asks his girlfriend to marry him in his garage? I don’t even have a ring.
I’ve known for a while now that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I just haven’t been able to focus on that. It’s been more important that I focus on our immediate future and the fight.
But now, nothing’s as important as her answer. Why isn’t she saying anything?
I reach out and cup her face, running my thumb along her lower lip. “Baby?”
Her eyebrows pinch together. Not a good sign.
With a few rapid blinks, she focuses on me. “What if you win tomorrow night?”
Ah, fuck. Not this again.
No matter how many times I assure her that I can throw this fight, she’s never totally convinced.
“I told you I’d lose it. I mean it. Now leave it alone.” My words are terse and powered by irritation. I don’t mean to be rude, but fuck. I just proposed, and this is the shit she wants to talk about?
I push both hands through my hair and take a deep breath. Her soft hand brushes my cheek. I look at her, my jaw cramping and eyes narrowing. She jumps, but quickly recovers, and places a lingering kiss on my cheek.
“I believe you can lose the fight, I do. But what if I say I’ll marry you and then something happens? Something terrible, like you get hit too hard and flip the switch on Del Toro? Or what if, I don’t know, he does something to forfeit the fight? You want to marry a prostitute? You want to share your wife with the wealthy men of Las Vegas?”
I grimace at the thought. No, I won’t share my wife with other men. I’d fucking kill any man who came near her with those intentions.
Her expression goes soft and she nods. “That’s what I thought. So what are our options? We could run, take off, live out our married days moving from place to place . . . ’til death do us part.”
She brings both hands up to cup my face. “You deserve better than that, Jonah. Your mom deserves better than that.”
“I don’t want to live without you.” Emotions surge within me making my voice rough.
A single tear trails down her cheek, betraying her smile. “And I don’t want to live without you. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Her expression hardens. “But I don’t want to talk about the future. Not until we know, with one-hundred-percent certainty, that we have one.”
So that’s a yes. Right? A maybe? Shit.
“Nothing will keep me from you. I know what’s going to happen tomorrow night. But if things don’t go as planned, I’ll take you away. Living a life on the run is better than living a life without you.” I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck and pull her face close to mine. “No one can keep us apart.”