WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition (37 page)

She dropped her head into her hands. “Oh my
God.” The feel of his arms around her had her peeling her fingers
from her face. “Do you hate me?” she asked.

“Not even close.”

“Not even a little?”

He started swaying with her in his arms. It
felt like the most intimate dance she’d ever shared. “Not even a
fraction of a little. You make quite a first impression, on
everyone it seems.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t
leave.”

“No, I’m saying that because it’s true.” He
kissed her on the corner of her eye, right next to her mole. “And
because I don’t want you to leave.”

She pulled her arms free and wrapped them
around his neck. She felt just right against him, as if they were
meant to go together. “Is this all happening too fast? It feels
really fast, doesn’t it?”

He kissed her other eye and rested his cheek
against hers. “It feels just right.”

“David,” she said on a sigh as he nipped at
her ear. “I’m going to have sex with you tonight.”

His chuckle against her neck sent shivers
down her spine. “Celia, I’m going to make love to you tonight.
There’s a difference, you know.”

“Ummm,” she purred. “I think you might need
to show me.”

“I am. Shut up and pay attention.”

Nine

One Year Later

“What do you and David have planned for
tonight?” Beth asked as she and Celia roamed the shoe display at
Bloomingdale’s. She nudged Celia with her elbow. “This is the big
anniversary.”

“He won’t tell me, but I know the Rangers
aren’t playing at the Garden, so I’m reasonably sure I’m safe from
having to spend the evening at a hockey game.” She picked up a
bright red pump. “Can I pull this off?”

Beth patted her growing belly. “More than I
can. You, at least, can see your shoes.”

Celia smiled. “In a month, you will, too.”
She looked down at Beth’s swollen ankles. “And you’re not missing
much. Come on.” Celia threaded her arm through Beth’s. “Let’s get
mama off her feet. I’m sure Gary’s got something planned for your
last Valentine’s before the baby.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, it better
be a foot massage and a carton of ice cream.”

“You romantic, you.”

“You just wait until you get knocked up. Then
we’ll see who’s romantic.”

Celia sighed. “I want to get married
first.”

“Do you think…?” Beth left the question
hanging.

Celia had spent all day — all week — trying
not to obsess over Valentine’s. She hated that the day held so much
history and pressure. “I’m not going there. You’re the only one who
knows I was a little disappointed after Christmas, especially since
he’s been hounding me for months to move in with him. Even though I
explained I won’t live with a man until I’m married, a part of me
worries he’s one of those guys who never wants to get married.”

“I don’t get that sense about him, Celia. His
parents are happily married, your parents had a great marriage.
He’d have broken if off with you if that was the case.”

The thought of David breaking up with her was
more than she could bear. He loved her; they’d both declared their
love for one another only a month after their whirlwind meeting and
courtship. “I guess so.”

“Look,” Beth said. They ducked their heads as
the brisk February wind slapped them in the face as they exited the
store. “You said yourself David thinks Valentine’s is a made up
holiday, so just try to relax and enjoy your anniversary.”

“Right,” she said. “Relax and enjoy. Which is
exactly why I got us a couples massage.”

“Oooh, very nice,” Beth cooed.

They hopped into a cab to share. As the cab
weaved through traffic and Celia watched people travel along the
streets, she realized she was making too big a deal out of their
anniversary. So what if it was on Valentine’s, so what that the man
she loved hadn’t proposed. A year ago, she would have given her
right eye for a man who loved her. It was time to understand what
anniversaries and Valentine’s Day were for — taking stock of and
appreciating what she and David had together.

When the cab stopped along her street, she
reached into her purse for cash. “You know what. You’re right. I’m
going to get us some pizza, maybe rent a movie, and just enjoy the
night with my honey.”

Beth gave her arm a squeeze. “Sounds like a
great idea to me.”

“You and the baby go have fun with Daddy,”
Celia said as she got out of the cab. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

• • •

David was waiting when she opened the door to
her apartment, carrying a box of pizza and a six pack of beer.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought we weren’t meeting
until later.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. He
looked just the way she liked, with his tie pulled loose and his
hair a little bit mussed from the wind.

He never came to her apartment for fear he’d
run into Tara. “You certainly did.” She kissed him and turned her
back to set the pizza on the kitchen counter. She slipped off her
coat and laid it over the chair next to his.

“I talked to your brother today,” David said
as he walked over to the couch.

Celia handed him a beer. “Oh? Did you ask him
about your tooth?”

“Wrong brother.”

She nearly choked on her first swallow.
“Jeff?” She sat down next to him on the couch. “Why’d you call
Jeff?”

“Well, when I decided to ask the woman I love
to spend the rest of her life with me, I figured I’d better run it
by the man who owns deadly weapons and knows how to use them.”

“What?”

David slid onto one knee. “Put your beer
down, Celia, I’m about to propose.”

“David…”

He slid a large package wrapped in shiny
silver paper out from under her couch and placed it on her lap.

“This looks too big to be a ring.”

“Open it.”

She untied the ribbon, ripped the paper, and
lifted the lid. She laughed at the present waiting under the neatly
folded tissue. “You got me a Rangers’ jersey?”

“No. I got you a custom made Rangers’
jersey.” He pulled it out, flipped it over, and held it up to his
chest. “See, it has your name on it.”

“It has your name on it.” She pointed to
Willingham stitched across the back.

He flipped it over, cocked his head and
pursed his lips. “Hummm. You’re right. I guess you’d better marry
me so this doesn’t go to waste.”

He pulled a small, square, robin’s-egg-blue
box from out of his pocket. When he flipped the lid, she nearly
slid off the couch, her throat tightening into a fist. “Oh,
David.”

“What do you say, Celia? Will you spend the
rest of your life with me? Be my wife, have my children, make me
the luckiest man in the world?”

“Can I wear the ring without the jersey?”

“I’m hoping you’ll wear the ring without
anything as often as possible.”

She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms
around him, the ring box sandwiched between them, nestled against
their hearts. “Oh, David. I love you.”

“I love you, too, but you still haven’t
answered the question.”

“Yes,” she shouted and shook him by the
shoulders. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

He pulled the ring from the box and slid it
on her finger. “It fits,” she said.

“We fit.”

“How did you know my size?”

He shrugged his shoulders and kissed the tip
of her nose. “I’ve got incredible luck where you’re concerned.”

ABOUT CHRISTY HAYES

Christy Hayes writes romance and women’s
fiction from her little basement office in the South. She cooks up
all kinds of trouble for her flawed characters when she’s not
driving her kids a sporting event or walking her pesky rescue mutts
through the neighborhood. Christy donates a portion of her proceeds
to the charities listed on her website.