“You’re crazy.” I laughed, pulling my hand from his lips.
“I’m serious.” His brown eyes narrowed with his smile.
“If I can wait for a real wedding with all of our friends and family, then you can too.” I kissed his nose before turning back to the bubbling water.
“Fine. But I’m just going to tell everyone you’re my wife, whether it’s official or not.” He pressed his body against my back.
“You’re so weird.”
“You’re the weird one. What kind of girl can just wait patiently to get married?” he whispered into my ear, nibbling on my lobe before chills raced through me and I shoved him away.
“The kind of girl who doesn’t need to a piece of paper to tell her how to feel. The kind who knows that being married won’t change anything between us.” I turned again, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. “I’m the kind of girl who wants to share our special day with everyone who’s important to us. They deserve it. It’s not like we’ve made it on easy on them.”
He exhaled through his nose. “You’re right. Plus, Gran and Gramps would kill us if we eloped.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” I chuckled.
“Let’s set a date though, okay?”
“Okay,” I conceded, pouring the boiling water and pasta into a strainer in the sink, the steam rising around my face.
“Tonight.” His voice echoed as he walked toward the calendar on the wall.
“So pick a date.”
“And you’ll make sure you’re not on assignment?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Jack.” I grabbed a jar, pouring the contents into a bowl and stirring before I continued. “Pick a date and I’ll tell the office on Monday.” His expression softened with my words.
He flipped the calendar to November before muttering to himself, “November has Thanksgiving, and then December is Christmas. No one wants to have to go to a wedding during the holidays. I think we should wait until after New Year’s. What do you think about a January wedding?”
He glanced over, his hand still holding the calendar. “January sounds cold.” I shivered over-dramatically to make my point.
“Not if we get married back home,” he suggested, as if it was the most obvious plan in the world.
“Yay!” I squealed, delighted at the thought. “January sounds totally doable then! I love January.”
“Alright, woman, you become a Carter on January twelfth.” His dimples deepened as his smile widened.
I glanced down at my ring, its brilliance losing focus as my eyes blurred with an unexpected tear. “Cassie Carter. I like the sound of that.”
“Kitten Carter. I like the sound of that better,” he said, as I placed two plates on our table.
“January twelfth,” I repeated, watching as his eyes relaxed with the permanence of our decision. I smiled as I scooped out a heaping serving of pasta and placed it on Jack’s plate.
Jack twirled the pasta against his spoon before looking up and smiling at me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I can’t wait to knock you up and have a whole team of little baseball players running around this place!” He reached under the table and rested his hand on my thigh, then slid it upwards teasingly.
“Slow down, Mr. Carter!” I swatted his shoulder.
“Aw, come on, Kitten. Let’s start now.” He badgered me good-naturedly, sensing my discomfort.
“That’s a discussion for another time. Like after we’re married,” I insisted as warmth coursed through my cheeks.
“Alright. On January thirteenth, we’ll start making babies.”