Bossy(82)

My eyes start to burn as tears threaten to fall. “Shut up.” I sniffle.

“No.” Declan surprises me by shuffling me off his lap and dropping to one knee on the dusty floor next to us. The floor that’s still littered with our clothes. “I won’t shut up. Not about this.”

Oh God. This can’t be happening.

“What are you doing? Get up.”

“Claire Anderson, I don’t know what I did to deserve being here with you, but you’re stuck with me. I fucking love you, and if you’ll have me, I want to make it official. Marry me.”

“What?” I squeak.

“Marry me.”

Never in my life have I been a girl that daydreamed about a proposal, a fancy wedding, or a house with a white picket fence. But everyone, and I don’t care who they are, has ideas about how it happens.

Those ideas never included anything close to being naked in an empty courtroom after screwing my stepbrother while a riot is going on outside the room. You can’t make this shit up.

“You’re crazy.” I shake my head in disbelief.

He arches an eyebrow. “Is that a no? Because I have to warn you, I’ll keep asking.”

“No, it’s—”

“So it’s a yes?”

“No!” Ugh! He’s incorrigible. Life with Declan would be anything but dull.

Am I seriously thinking about this?

“I have to say, you’re sending mixed signals. Can I just pick one? Because I’d prefer to go with ‘yes’.”

“Shut up!” I smack him in the shoulder and laugh, tears in my eyes.

Declan just grins. “Marry me.”

“You really aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?” Holy crap I think I’m about to get engaged. Am I really going to do this?

“Marry me.”

“Fine!”

He’s going to drive me crazy. I know it. I’m signing myself up for a lifetime of insanity, and I can’t stop grinning at the thought.

Sliding my arms up, I wrap them around his strong neck and pull him towards me. His soft hair catches between my fingers as I clutch him, clinging while we kiss, deeply and passionately.

Someone bumps against one of the doors, almost pushing it open. Hard enough to make the handle click. I pull away reluctantly, giggling at his disappointed groan. “We need to get dressed, before someone comes in.”

He makes a grab at me. “I don’t fucking care. You said yes, and I think that requires celebratory sex.”

Pulling my arm just out of reach, I get to my feet, gathering my clothes up off the floor. “Sorry. You’re just going to have to follow me home.”

“It’s my home too, you know.”

I pull my lower lip between my teeth and start putting on my bra. “Perfect, we can use both our rooms then.”

“Soon-to-be Mrs. Riordan Jr., I like the way you think.”

“Uh, that’s a bit of a mouthful. Maybe you can be Mr. Anderson.”

“In your dreams,” he scoffs.

Once we get our clothes back on, we open the doors to find our witness Lloyd Peterson with his tongue halfway down the throat of a woman with “Weld Wench” written across the back of her shirt.

I shake my head. “At least we had the grace to get a room.”

Declan throws his head back and laughs.

I love that sound, and I love making him make it.

I love him, period.





Epilogue


Three years to finish my degree.

Three months of planning.

Three days of panic because my dress no longer fits.

Sliding my hand over the barely there bump on my belly, I smile.

Our parents thought it was a little strange that we wanted to get married at the same castle they did, but in a lot of ways that day was as much of a turning point for me and Declan as it was for them. The memories weren’t all good, but they led to something that is quite frankly, awesome.

But no videos for us.

The music starts up, and I look over at Carl, who is walking me down the aisle.

He squeezes my hand. “This is it, kiddo.”

My mother walks out first, and I catch sight of Declan and Garrett waiting for us at the altar. My stomach flutters.

At the right moment, we step through the doors, and my knees almost buckle when I see the way Declan’s eyes are focused on me. I’m the center of his universe. Me and the little bean who caused so much trouble with the dressmaker.

I smile back, holding in a laugh as he fingers the panties he once again has stuffed in his breast pocket. Some things never change.

Some things do.

Like the fact that from the day of the disastrous Cooper trial, Declan kept his word and I’ve never had cause to doubt him.

Fill his car with Styrofoam packing balls yes, doubt him no.

He didn’t mind. Anyone who hires a singing clown to serenade someone in class on their birthday knows a little payback is in order.