Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"I'm ready now," Marlowe whispered, setting the test stick on the counter beside the sink as she turned to face Asher. "You startled me, that's all. Of course I'll marry you. I used one strip and I got two stripes, but it's early. It might mean we're pregnant, but the instructions say I should take another test tomorrow. Maybe more after that. You know, just to be sure."

He shook his head. "Nope. No way. You're pregnant, I can tell, and that makes me the luckiest man alive. And the dumbest. I hope you know I didn't ask you to marry me just because we might be pregnant. I asked because" —Asher dug the ring back out of his pocket and held it out for her to see— "when Gram passed away, she left this, along with a handwritten note that said, ‘For you, Asher. You'll know who to give it to the moment you see her.' " His Adam's apple bobbed as he struggled to swallow. "And honey—"

Time stopped, there on the edge of eternity. Marlowe froze, her poor pounding heart so full it felt like it might shatter into a million pieces. Asher wanted to marry her? Was this a dream? A fairytale come true? Did he really want to spend the rest of his life with someone like her?

"I knew the instant I saw you in that cave," he whispered, his voice thick and hoarse. "I know it sounds crazy, but from that second, I knew you were already mine. I'll understand if you'd rather wait—"

"Me? Wait?" She fluttered her fingers in his face. It was either that or burst into tears and shriek like a hysterical idiot. "You know me better than that. If this ring belonged to your grandmother, then…"

Marlowe tried. She truly did, but she couldn't stop the tidal wave of emotions crashing over her. "Then she's mine, too," she squeaked nervously. "I… I never had a grandma. What was she like? What's her name? Tell me… tell me everything about her." She dashed a hand over her face, but it wasn't quick enough. Her nose was running. There was no way to stop the flood pouring out of her now, and no use speaking.

Sinking to the edge of the tub, Asher tugged her onto his lap. "I love you so damned much," he murmured, cupping the back of her head and letting her hide her face in the corner of his neck. "Is it too soon? Should we wait?"

Sniffing like a ninny, she croaked, "No."

He pressed a handful of tissues into her fingers, but it was too little, too late. The shoulder of his t-shirt was already soggy. Tipping back, Marlowe gathered her wits and blew her nose into that clump of tissues, while Asher's hand in the middle of her back held her steady. Wasn't that the story of their lives? Him, holding her together while she fell apart or threw temper tantrums or lashed out at him or—

"I don't get it," she sobbed, dabbing at her eyes and hoping the flood stopped soon. "What is wrong with me?"

She'd never bawled this hard in her life. Not during all those long days alone when her parents had better things to do than spend time with their only kid. Not in Afghanistan after the American soldiers had all left. Certainly not after Alex told her that her dad died seven freaking years ago. Not even when her mom blew herself up because she chose not to trust or believe her daughter. But there Marlowe was, on what should've been the very best day of her life, falling apart like a…

Hell! No Disney princess had ever cried so hard. This bullshit had to stop.

Try telling that to her heart.

"Marlowe, honey," Asher whispered contritely. "It's okay, honest. Cry all you want. I've got you and I'm not going anywhere."

Clutching the wad of now shredded and utterly worthless tissues, she ran her hand around his neck and collapsed with her ear against his chest. There it was, the sound she remembered from every incredibly close and extremely personal encounter she'd had with this man. Asher's heartbeat. Closing her teary eyes, Marlowe let the steady rhythm of that marvelous organ work its magic. His heart was her first bedtime lullaby and her most favorite song. Comprised of majestic chords and heavenly notes she'd never heard or known until she'd met him, it was more than just the beginning of a love story. It was her first real home. Her first safe place and the first beat of her forever.

"I will always love you," she told him quietly. "And yes, I'll marry you. Anytime and anywhere. Tell me about your grandmother."

His chest heaved with a sigh. Hearts tended to recognize each other. That was how Marlowe knew Asher was content, because finally, she was, too.

The End