She snorted. “Yeah, my mother would love that.”
“Maybe not exactly those words,” he reconsidered, thinking of Veronica’s mother. Humorless was a good description. “But the sentiment.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She pulled back to look at him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Do you want me to?” he countered.
She smiled at him, her fingers toying with his hair. “Maybe in another year.”
“That’s what you said last year,” he pointed out.
“I know.” She shrugged. “I’m not in a hurry. I like where we are now.”
“So do I.”
“Speaking of which, are we just in this shower for hygienic purposes, or can I get a Thanksgiving dicking?”
He heaved a sigh. “If I must.”
“Hey, you don’t want to get it on, I’ll just make love to the showerhead,” she said and reached over to grab the massage wand. “It has more settings than you anyway.”
“You keep threatening to do that, and one of these days I’m going to make you do it while I watch,” he warned her.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, clearly unimpressed with the threat. “Hurry it up, will you? I have pies to bake.”
He scooped her up in his arms, laughing. “Fuck, I love you.”
“I know.” She curled her arms around his neck, a smug smile on her pretty, pretty mouth. “I love you too. Now prove it.”
He did.
And they lived happily ever after.
The End
