Chris wiped beneath her eyes, catching the tears before they fell. “I don’t need kids, as much as I need you, with me.”
“I’m not ready for a baby now, but one day . . . one day . . . I could be.” She nodded. “I would be. I think—I know—one day I would be.”
“So . . . you and me? Together?”
She nodded again, smiling through her tears. “Yes.”
He rolled over, taking her with him, under him, his body above hers. He kissed her, then murmured against her lips, “Consider yourself engaged. We’ll go ring shopping on my next day off.”
Early the next morning Lauren baked her cakes and pies at Mama’s Café feeling delirious from shock and lack of sleep.
Had Chris really proposed? Had she really said yes? Everything was moving so fast and yet she wasn’t scared. She was excited. Blake’s accident had changed her life overnight. Why couldn’t she let her life be upended by joy? Life wasn’t just bad things. It was also miracles and possibility and hope . . .
Marriage meant home.
Marriage meant love.
Marriage meant she and Chris would become a family.
Her head was still spinning when Boone entered the café later that morning, taking one of the few empty spots at the counter.
She headed over with a menu, water, and coffee. “’Morning,” she said, grinning, feeling so full of brightness that she thought she’d burst. “Coffee?”
“Better not. Have already had too much.” He also refused the menu. “How about a large orange juice instead?”
He also gave her his order, pork chops and eggs with plenty of country-fried potatoes, and she turned the order in, humming to herself.
She and Chris had agreed they wouldn’t tell anyone until she had her ring. He also said this morning as she scooted from his bed that he wanted to speak with her father that evening, just to make sure he approved, which wasn’t a given seeing as Chris played for the A’s.
Lauren had laughed and kissed Chris good-bye. She’d driven to work, still laughing, and then the laughter gave way to a picture of her in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle to Chris.
She’d been a mother but never a wife.
She’d been a parent but never a bride.
She was going to get married.
Unable to stop smiling, Lauren carried a plate of three piping-hot beignets to Boone at the counter. “Here,” she said. “Not as good as Café du Monde, but made with love. Thought you needed a little bit of New Orleans this morning.”
Boone smiled reluctantly before taking a bite of one, his fingers now coated with fine powdered sugar. “Good,” he said, wiping his mouth off. “You know, my mom would take me to Café du Monde for beignets on special occasions. If it was my birthday, I’d get to skip school for beignets and café au lait. We did it every year and then I hit puberty and hated the whole date-with-your-mom, found it embarrassing.”
“So she stopped taking you?”
“No, she dragged me anyway.”
Lauren laughed. “Your mom sounds wonderful.”
“She’s a character all right. It was fine to miss school for beignets, but not for baseball games.” He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, and how I don’t see much of her or my dad. If I’m not careful, they’ll both be gone before I know it.”
“Time passes quickly.”
“Too quickly,” he agreed. “When you’re younger you’re desperate to get away from your folks and have your own life, and then one day you wake up and realize they’re old and will soon be gone. Not fair.”
Lauren leaned across the counter to brush the dusting of sugar from his cheek. “Did Chris ever tell you . . . I had a son?”
Boone’s gaze lifted, met hers. “No.”
She nodded, hand resting on the counter, just in case she needed support. “He died last June. He was seventeen.” She struggled to find the words. “He played baseball. He loved baseball. He was good, too. He had a future—” She counted to ten, then pressed on. “I don’t say that boastfully, or lightly. Blake was good. But I never enjoyed watching him play. I was so angry at baseball.”
“You’ve said you didn’t like ball.”
“Or baseball players.” She struggled to smile. “It’s because of his dad. I finally told Chris about him. Not sure why I’ve kept it a secret. Not sure why I felt so ashamed. But I did.
“I was a single mom,” Lauren added. “With tremendous family support. But John—Blake’s dad—was never in the picture. He wanted nothing to do with me, at least not after conception. I even signed this document stating I would never identify John as the father or come to him for child support.” Her smile wasn’t quite steady. “And I didn’t.”