He thought about quitting the parlor, but I know he loves having that creative outlet, so I encouraged him to continue. He works by appointment one or two nights a week, and that gives him time to draw and paint. I love that he’s putting his MFA to good use. In fact, his artwork hangs all over our house, and I’m setting up an online Etsy store so he can sell his art directly to clients.
And I’m happy to say my ex finally got a clue and has left us alone. But Eric’s also been pretty busy lately with that payoff scandal that landed him and his father in some hot water with the feds. Can’t say I’m surprised. Or particularly heartbroken.
“My parents are watching Izzy tonight, right?” Brady murmurs in my ear.
I nod and fight a smile when I feel him harden against my belly. “Babe.”
“What?” He laughs as his hands lower to my ass.
“Seriously. We can’t. People will be here soon.” But oh, God, I want to.
He groans and peels himself off me before he reaches down to adjust himself.
“Later,” I promise, kissing his cheek. “We just have to be quiet.”
Brady scrubs his face. “Fine.” Then he grumbles, “Was it my imagination or did I hear we’re supposed to dress up tonight?”
“Hmm. Yeah, I think our mothers are pretending we’re the Brady Bunch. Heh. Get it? Brady Bunch?” I make a silly face, and he rolls his eyes, a smile ghosting his lips. “Speaking of getting ready, I need to get dressed, and I won’t if you’re here being all handsy, so scoot.”
“You like when I’m handsy.”
“I love when you’re handsy, just not when I’m getting dressed.”
Laughing, I push him out the door with instructions to change into something more appropriate and then try to entertain my parents. They’ve been staying in my old bedroom for a few nights while we harvest the lavender.
Neither Brady nor I could really deal with sleeping in Mel and Cal’s bedroom, so we converted it into an office, and we turned the old office into our bedroom.
When I exit my room twenty minutes later, I’m glad I took the time to put on makeup. This dress is too pretty to have me looking like a haggard mess. My sister and I were out shopping last week, and she talked me into getting it. Of course her prompting is the only reason I’d be fool enough to get a white sundress. I’m sure Izzy will get her handprints all over it in five minutes.
When I step out into the living room, my dad wraps me in a big hug.
“Mija, you look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Then my mom, who I swear was wiping her eyes a second ago, gives me a hug. What in the world? Is this because she’s happy I’m finally wearing a dress?
“Tori is setting the picnic table out back,” my mom says, sniffling.
I swear she’s going through menopause.
We head outside where we have a picnic table set up under the shade of the big oak tree. Brady’s parents, my sister, and the Macs are already back here. My parents follow behind us with an armload of casseroles.
Izzy jumps out of Tori’s arms and comes tearing across the yard toward us in a little red tutu and Boston Red Sox t-shirt. “Daddy! Daddy! Upsies! Upsies!” She lifts her hand to Brady, wanting him to pick her up.
He adopted her in late January. Watching how wonderful he is with her, how much he adores her, makes my heart feel like it's going to burst.
Brady’s explained to Izzy that he’s her uncle because he’s afraid to take that away from Cal, but she insists on calling him daddy. Of course, he realizes she doesn’t understand right now, but he doesn’t want her to wake up one day and be shocked by something she could just know all along.
I tell her she has two daddies, and they both love her with all of their hearts.
Brady scoops her up and bounces her in his arms before whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle. She looks over to me, and he nods.
“Swing? Pweese?” she asks me with the sweetest expression on her face.
“Sure, darlin’.” Here come the smudges, I laugh to myself.
I take her from Brady’s arms, pausing to kiss his cheek. Then I go to put her on the swing when he stops me. “Why don’t you put her on your lap, and I’ll push the two of you?”
“Okay.” I grin back at him.
Man, he looks so handsome this evening in a pair of dark jeans and a green polo that stretches across his broad shoulders.
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat when I see how he’s looking at me. Like we’re the only two people who exist.
His eyes travel down my face, over my bare shoulders and past the fitted white halter top before swinging back up again. A slow smile lifts his lips, and I shiver under his gaze.
I hear the words without him speaking. I love you.
An effervescent feeling that I can only describe as utter happiness rushes over me as I hug Izzy to my chest.
He stands there, watching us, a wide smile on his face.
I sit on the swing with Izzy, and Brady leans one arm on the chain of the swing.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispers, brushing my hair back. “But then you always look beautiful.”
Leaning back, I smile at him, my heart so full of love for this man.
I expect him to go behind us to push the swing. But instead—ay Dios mío—he gets down on one knee.
And then he takes out a little box.
Oh my God!
My mouth drops open, and I look around and realize everyone is taking pictures of us.