all over for you,” he said.
She wiped her finger off on her dress and held up the glass of champagne. “I went to the kitchen to find another drink and stopped to chat with one of the caterers.”
He smiled, his very charming and brilliantly white smile. Derek had a great toothbrush. The kind with big bristles and a smooth handle that would work great for cleaning out tiny little crevices. For a second, she wondered if he carried it with him. The second right before he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.
“I need to talk to you.”
It was strange, but she always felt claustrophobic in his arms. Sort of like she wanted to claw her way out. It was ridiculous; Derek was barely taller than she was in heels. She could get away from him anytime she wanted. Couldn’t she?
Amy forced her paranoia down and smiled at him. “Talk away.”
“Not here.” He took her hand and led her down the hallway. “I found a perfect spot.”
She followed him through the kitchen. The caterer glanced up, and Amy toasted her with the champagne as if to say, “I took your advice, and I’m enjoying myself.” But the woman had obviously put her in the category of the rich and weird. She ignored her and went back to her shrimp.
Derek pulled her into the conservatory, around the fountain, and over to a table and chairs. “Here we are.” He pulled out a chair, then waited for her to sit down before taking the chair across from her.
Amy looked around at the large potted plants. She hated the way greenhouses smelled. Like mildew. Could you Clorox a greenhouse or would it kill all the plants?
“Aimers,” Derek said.
And she hated that nickname; it sounded like a hunting club. Maybe Lysol would work better. Lysol didn’t kill anything except germs. And weren’t germs bad for plants?
“I think it’s time we got married.”
His statement pulled her away from her compulsive behavior.
“What?” She stared at him.
The look on his face was amused and almost superior. “I think it’s time we got married.”
“Oh,” she said.
It was a foolish thing to say. But then she didn’t know what else to say. They had talked about marriage, and she had planned on getting married. Eventually. But just not now. Not when her stomach hurt and her heart ached. Notwhen she couldn’t seem to come to grips with the fact Rory McPherson was back and meaner than a rattlesnake. Not when her flatware drawer still needed to be cleaned.
“Oh?” Derek said. “That’s all you can say? How do you feel about this?”
She tried to think. “Well, I feel… scared.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but there it was.
Derek laughed as he took her clammy hand. “I can relate to that. I’m a little scared too. But we’ve talked about it, and I think it’s time to forge ahead. Gabby will be going into third grade next year, and she needs the stability of a father and a home.”
He was right. She knew he was right. But why didn’t it feel right? And why wasn’t she a little more excited about the prospect of becoming his wife?
She smiled because she knew she had a great smile. It was a smile that could sometimes make men forget what they were talking about. Unfortunately, this time it didn’t work.
“So what do you say?” he asked.
The smile died. She cleared her throat and then took a deep breath. “Well—I think we should—”
His cell phone chirped out the Texas A & M fight song, which Amy had always thought was a little strange considering he had been out of college for close to ten years. As usual when his phone rang, he excused himself and walked away before he answered it. He either had great cell phone etiquette or another girlfriend. Surprisingly, the latter didn’t really bother her. It should, but it didn’t. Just like it didn’t bother her that he answered the phone at all while proposing. Derek loved his cell phone.And, at the moment, Amy loved it almost as much as he did.
Derek looked back at her and held up
She wiped her finger off on her dress and held up the glass of champagne. “I went to the kitchen to find another drink and stopped to chat with one of the caterers.”
He smiled, his very charming and brilliantly white smile. Derek had a great toothbrush. The kind with big bristles and a smooth handle that would work great for cleaning out tiny little crevices. For a second, she wondered if he carried it with him. The second right before he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.
“I need to talk to you.”
It was strange, but she always felt claustrophobic in his arms. Sort of like she wanted to claw her way out. It was ridiculous; Derek was barely taller than she was in heels. She could get away from him anytime she wanted. Couldn’t she?
Amy forced her paranoia down and smiled at him. “Talk away.”
“Not here.” He took her hand and led her down the hallway. “I found a perfect spot.”
She followed him through the kitchen. The caterer glanced up, and Amy toasted her with the champagne as if to say, “I took your advice, and I’m enjoying myself.” But the woman had obviously put her in the category of the rich and weird. She ignored her and went back to her shrimp.
Derek pulled her into the conservatory, around the fountain, and over to a table and chairs. “Here we are.” He pulled out a chair, then waited for her to sit down before taking the chair across from her.
Amy looked around at the large potted plants. She hated the way greenhouses smelled. Like mildew. Could you Clorox a greenhouse or would it kill all the plants?
“Aimers,” Derek said.
And she hated that nickname; it sounded like a hunting club. Maybe Lysol would work better. Lysol didn’t kill anything except germs. And weren’t germs bad for plants?
“I think it’s time we got married.”
His statement pulled her away from her compulsive behavior.
“What?” She stared at him.
The look on his face was amused and almost superior. “I think it’s time we got married.”
“Oh,” she said.
It was a foolish thing to say. But then she didn’t know what else to say. They had talked about marriage, and she had planned on getting married. Eventually. But just not now. Not when her stomach hurt and her heart ached. Notwhen she couldn’t seem to come to grips with the fact Rory McPherson was back and meaner than a rattlesnake. Not when her flatware drawer still needed to be cleaned.
“Oh?” Derek said. “That’s all you can say? How do you feel about this?”
She tried to think. “Well, I feel… scared.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but there it was.
Derek laughed as he took her clammy hand. “I can relate to that. I’m a little scared too. But we’ve talked about it, and I think it’s time to forge ahead. Gabby will be going into third grade next year, and she needs the stability of a father and a home.”
He was right. She knew he was right. But why didn’t it feel right? And why wasn’t she a little more excited about the prospect of becoming his wife?
She smiled because she knew she had a great smile. It was a smile that could sometimes make men forget what they were talking about. Unfortunately, this time it didn’t work.
“So what do you say?” he asked.
The smile died. She cleared her throat and then took a deep breath. “Well—I think we should—”
His cell phone chirped out the Texas A & M fight song, which Amy had always thought was a little strange considering he had been out of college for close to ten years. As usual when his phone rang, he excused himself and walked away before he answered it. He either had great cell phone etiquette or another girlfriend. Surprisingly, the latter didn’t really bother her. It should, but it didn’t. Just like it didn’t bother her that he answered the phone at all while proposing. Derek loved his cell phone.And, at the moment, Amy loved it almost as much as he did.
Derek looked back at her and held up
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