Bianca sniffles, her eyes getting glassy again. “You mean it?”
“I can’t wait to watch you grow,” I murmur to her stomach. My gaze finds hers already on mine. “How did you know?”
“The heartburn,” she explains. “My mom always told us she only had it while pregnant. It’s what prompted her to take a test. While you were fighting for your life, the story clicked and it felt right. I wasn’t sure it could be true, but I guess she passed that down to me.”
My eyes burn with unshed tears. “Our baby is in there?”
“Yes,” she confirms.
“And you’re going to marry me?”
She laughs. “Eventually.”
“How about now? I bet there’s a pastor or preacher in the chapel.”
“We’re not getting married in a hospital.”
When she puts it that way, I can understand her resistance. “That’s fair. Climb up here and ride my face to celebrate our engagement.”
Bianca’s ass remains firmly planted on the chair. “I don’t recall you asking for my hand, Stalker.”
“You’re the one who skipped all the paperwork to pronounce us husband and wife.”
“For good reason,” she counters. “They’re sticklers for the rules around here.”
That sends my thoughts on a tangent. “Have you seen my jeans?”
Bianca points to a bag on the floor. “Not sure they’re salvageable. I’ll try to get the blood out.”
But I couldn’t care less about keeping them as a souvenir. “Can you check the front pocket?”
“Sure,” she mumbles and begins searching. Her whole body turns to stone when she finds what I’m looking for.
“Maybe it’s too soon, but I’ve been waiting years to get my ring on your finger.” I open my palm for the velvet box.
Bianca drops it like a hot potato. “How long have you been carrying this around?”
“Longer than I should admit.” I flip open the lid, flooding the drab room with radiance. My hand beckons for her left one. “Remember that I’m laid up after having surgery. Can’t get down on one knee, but getting shot deserves several sympathy points.”
“As if I’d say no,” she blubbers. “You got me more daisies.”
I pluck the diamond ring from the velvet pillow. “Do I even need to ask?”
Her wet lashes bat at my confidence. “I think you should.”
“Bianca Jane Benson,” I breathe. “You’re the love of my life. I knew it from the first moment I saw you. Will you make me the happiest man to walk this earth and agree to be my wife?”
She’s already nodding, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks.
“Tell me what I need to hear, Princess.”
“Yes!” Her voice is rubbed raw. “Yes, yes, yes. I can’t wait to marry you.”
“That’s my girl.” I tug her closer and slide the ring on her finger. “Now you’re really never getting rid of me.”
“Gonna hold you to that.” Bianca gingerly sits on the edge of my bed, mindful of the tubes and wires snaking from my body. Her diamonds sparkle when she wiggles her hand. “Well done, Stalker. This is stunning.”
We study the brilliance for a moment. A three-carat canary solitaire is surrounded by dozens of smaller pink diamonds in a halo formation. The design replicates her favorite flower. Six platinum daisies join together to make the band, each with a stud in the center.
