by Cora Kenborn
To be fair, I was twelve, so that last one didn’t really count.
Honestly, at that age, I probably wouldn’t have been charged with a felony even if I’d gotten booked. Lucky for me, Sheriff Tucker thought it was cute that a little girl in pigtails held up the local bank with nothing more than a cucumber and a Lisa Frank lunchbox. I hadn’t gotten in trouble at all. He’d just made me return the money and apologize to Mrs. Mott before he took me home.
Maybe living with a cop wasn’t the best idea after all.
“Savannah, tell me what’s going on,” Pope pressed, his light mood quickly dissolving into worry.
I quickly disentangled myself and got to my feet. This was not the kind of conversation one had sitting down. Nope, I needed to be on my feet and ready to run at the first sign we weren’t on the same page.
“Addie and Zep are having a baby, which is really great for them, but let’s be honest here. They’re a Jerry Springer show waiting to happen. On the other hand, we have a routine. We watch House Hunters and Property Brothers for Christ’s sake. If that’s not relationship security, I don’t know what is. Zep keeps proposing, and Addie keeps turning him down, but we all know eventually she’s going to give in. Where does that leave me? Here we are, acting like an old married couple, yet we haven’t so much as breathed a word about what’s next in our relationship.”
Pope cocked his head to the side and studied me, his body relaxed and his face remarkably calm. I wasn’t sure how he could be calm after all I just said. Satisfied with whatever he saw in my expression, he leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees.
“So, what exactly are you saying, Savannah?”
Throwing my hands in the air, I tilted my head back and let out a frustrated growl. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you, you idiot!”
“Did you just tell me you love me for the first time and then immediately call me an idiot in the same sentence?”
I internally cringed. That hadn't been as smooth as I would've liked, but my stubborn ass wouldn't let me back down now. He was being an idiot, and I did love him, damn it. I propped a hand on my hip and glared at him, daring him to flip my shit. “Yes, as a matter fact, I did.”
Pope sat up straight, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I see.”
Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
I didn't voice my questions. Instead, I stayed silent, waiting to see what he’d say next. He didn't disappoint.
“So, you're looking to see what the next step is in our relationship?”
“Yes,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest in an effort to protect the heart that had currently taken up residence on my sleeve.
“And you're ready for something more serious?”
“Yeah, I'd say so.” I tapped my foot, growing more impatient by the moment. Was he seriously going to play twenty-one questions with me right now?
“And you love me?”
“Yeah, I think we covered that. Do you have anything else to say other than sitting here and asking me all these questions?”
“Hold that thought,” he said, raising a hand and standing from the couch. “I'll be right back.”
I watched in complete shock as he walked out of the room without another word. What the hell was going on? All the movies and books in the world didn’t prepare me for his reaction. A man wasn’t supposed to just say nothing and walk out of the room when a woman professed her love. Before I had the chance to unstick my feet from the floor, grab my shit, and run out the door, he was back and standing right in front of me.
“So, you love me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Did you get hit in the head at work today?”
A low growl came from his throat, and I glanced up to see his eyes were like liquid pools of metal, the light blue almost completely bleached out with emotion. “Answer the question, Savannah.”
Thinking it better to just answer his ridiculous questions than to fight him, I huffed in defeat. “Yes!”
“And you want to be with me?”
“Yessss,” I said, drawing out the word, all earlier anxiety replaced with annoyance. Maybe he needed a damn hearing aid.
“And you’re ready for a commitment?”
For the love of all that’s holy…
“Yes!” I all but shouted at him.
“And you’re going to stick around and work things out when shit gets hard?”
“Yes,” I growled.
“And you love me?”
I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling. “For God’s sake, yes!”
“So, you'll marry me?”
“Ye—wait, what?” I jerked my head back down to face him only to find he wasn't there. Letting my eyes sink lower, I found Pope kneeling in front of me, a velvet box in his hand which held a sparkling antique diamond engagement ring.
“Where did you get this?” I managed to wheeze out through my panting breaths.
“It was my grandmother’s,” he said softly.
Holy shit, I’m going to pass out.
“How long have you had this?”
“For a while. Look, Savannah, I love you, and I want you to be my wife.”
I blinked at him, my brain suddenly sludge. It took a while for his words to sink in.
“You’re gonna tell me you love me for the first time while asking me to marry you?”
He chuckled as he plucked the ring from its perch in the satin lining and slipped it on my left ring finger. Apparently, my answer had been a foregone conclusion because he didn’t seem to feel the need to wait for me to vocalize it.
Pope got to his feet and took my face in his hands for the second time that night, but this time it wasn't to provide comfort. It was to convey love. “Sweetheart, I’ve told you I loved you a million times. Sometimes with a kiss, sometimes with a touch, and always with a look. Using the words doesn't make it any more real. What we have, that’s as real as it gets.”
Seriously, what the fuck is happening right now?
He placed a series of soft kisses on my lips that only left me aching for more. Just as I flicked his top lip with my tongue and moved to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly.
Pope pulled back to look into my eyes. “Is that a yes, you’re going to answer my question, or a yes, you’re gonna marry me?”
“Yes.” It was all I could get out.
“Savannah, baby, you’re killing me.”
I swallowed hard through the lump in my throat and felt my eyes fill with tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” I said, almost surprised at hearing the words come out in my own voice.
The brilliant smile that spread across Pope’s face was enough to have my legs turning into noodles.
Christ on a cracker, did I just agree to marry this man?
As if he could read my mind, Pope’s smile got even bigger. “Yeah,” he said, his voice thick. “You’re mine.” Before I had time to think about what he meant, he bent down and lifted me in a fireman’s hold. With me draped over his shoulder, he stalked out of the living room and toward the bedroom.
I squealed in protest. “Aren’t you supposed to carry me the other way?”
He chuckled and swatted my ass. “That’s for after the wedding. And speaking of which, I’m not too keen on the idea of a long engagement, so you better start working on the details. The sooner, the better.”
50
Intimate Gestures
Adelaide
New Orleans, Louisiana
“It’s not exactly a rickety porch on the edge of the swamp, but it’ll do.” Pushing the front door open with my hip, I handed Savannah one of the two mugs of hot coffee balanced in each hand. She chewed on her lip and stared straight ahead while taking the cup out of my hand and blowing the steam rising from the top.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, her expression a million miles away.
For the first tim
e since Savannah and I moved the business to New Orleans, she wasn’t running at warp speed or throwing on wrinkled clothes straight out of the laundry basket five minutes before we had to leave for work. Actually, she looked rather put together in a pressed navy blue T-shirt dress and flip-flops. She’d pulled her newly highlighted hair in a loose bun on top of her head, and if I weren’t mistaken, she’d even put on makeup.
Yep, some shit is definitely off.
In fact, all morning she’d been uncharacteristically quiet. We’d missed our usual popcorn and Netflix sisterly bonding time because by the time came home from Pope’s house last night, pregnancy fatigue already had me comatose and drooling on my pillow. However, anytime Savvy stopped talking the universe tilted a little. I knew my sister well enough to know something was on her mind. But before I could approach the subject of her sudden mood swing, she took a hesitant sip from her coffee and cut me off.
“Put that down,” she said, nodding toward the other mug in my hand.
I gaped at her in horror. “Have you lost your mind?”
Not have coffee? I’d rather die.
“Ads, you’re over three months pregnant,” she muttered. “You can’t have caffeine, or you’ll have a three-headed boat brat with webbed feet.” Making an unflattering face, she stared into the cup as if it were filled with liquid shit.
I tilted forward in the old rickety rocking chair Babs gave us and tapped the toe of my high heel against her leg with a grin. “You’ve been reading the pregnancy bible.” I made sure not to elaborate, quietly enjoying the thought of her skimming the pages for my benefit.
“Yeah, well, don’t start thinking I’m gonna to volunteer to be your labor coach or anything. Staring at your bare ass while waiting for a greased watermelon to shoot out of your vag isn’t my idea of sisterly bonding.”
“Duly noted.” I smiled over the rim of my cup. “Besides, I think I’ll recruit Mama for that particular job. Knowing you, the whole thing would end up on Snapchat.”
A slow grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. “It’s like you know me…” As her words trailed off, she raised a curious eyebrow and tucked her knees against her chest while setting her mug down on the railing. “Wait, Mama? I hate to break it to you, sis, but if you think Zep is going to be content to hang out in the lobby and pass out cigars and balloons, you’ve lost your damn mind.”
“We haven’t exactly discussed it,” I admitted, warming my hands around the coffee mug.
Savannah groaned, tossing her head back and palming her forehead. “Ads…”
“Look, we’re both still in shock and having him in there, seeing all this…” Scrunching up my face, I waved a hand in a circle around my lower half. “Well, I’m just not comfortable with it.”
The idea of labor scared the shit out of me, and Zep and I weren’t the most level-headed people in a crisis situation. After calling our truce, we decided to stop fighting with each other and start fighting for each other. Wires, banshee screams, and my legs being spread like a wishbone could blow all that to hell.
“Zep has seen all this before.” She smirked mimicking my hand gesture. “I’m pretty sure that’s what caused this whole situation.”
“We’re working on things.” We were. Well, at least we weren’t at each other’s throats anymore. Forcing confidence into my voice, I waved a hand in the air. “He knows the deal, and I think he’s coming around.”
“Is that so?” Savannah folded her arms across her chest. I’d seen that move before, and every muscle in my back tensed. It meant a Savvy sermon was on the horizon. “And exactly how many times has the poor guy proposed now?”
“Twelve-ish,” I mumbled, finding the chipped wood under my feet suddenly fascinating.
“And how many times have you’ve shot him down?”
I glared at her, hating when she made sense. “Twelve—”
“Twelve-ish, right,” she finished with a smirk. “Interesting.”
I knew she had more to say, so I jabbed my finger at her in a feeble attempt at deflection. “Since when did you become a traditionalist?” Tossing the now lukewarm contents of my mug over the porch railing, I narrowed my eyes in sharp accusation.
“Just give me one reason why you won’t.”
An unladylike snort escaped as I placed a protective hand over my stomach. “I’ll give you three. Roland, Roland, and Roland,” I said, ticking each growl of his name off on the fingers of my other hand.
“Three of him, huh?”
“Roland is an asshole enough for three people.” Toeing the peeling paint on the porch, I continued rocking back and forth as the wasted years of my disastrous marriage ran through my mind.
“Have you heard from him?”
“Not lately. I’ve been a little preoccupied gestating a human.”
She turned her head slowly, tucking her tongue into her cheek. “You’re having another man’s baby, Addie.” She shouted, throwing her arms out to the side for dramatic emphasis. “Grow some fucking balls and cut ties with the douchebag.”
“I will,” I promised, heaving a sigh. I wanted every tie to my ten-year prison sentence severed as well as any memory of being a Bordeaux.
She meant well, but Savannah looked at love through rose colored glasses. With a sudden stark clarity, I realized I ran off to Shreveport and left my baby sister behind to fend for herself. I allowed Roland to isolate me inside his plantation prison and had done a shitty job of protecting her from making the same mistake. A big sister’s job was to impart wisdom and shield her sibling from douchebags like the man I married. Maybe all that repressed guilt was why the word vomit bubbled up my throat before I could stop it.
“I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve been, Sav,” I admitted. “But if you’ve learned anything from me, I hope it’s that marriage ruins everything. One minute everything is going great, and the next, your husband is sticking his dick in some toddler in a g-string.”
Savannah didn’t respond. She just stared across the lawn again and watched passing cars racing off to work.
“Sav?”
“Pope asked me to marry him.”
A long silence stretched between us, and I slammed my feet down, stopping my incessant rocking. I was sure I’d heard her wrong until I noticed the glassy look in her eyes. My heart pounded in my chest as I gaped at her. Part of me wanted to jump out of my chair and hug her until we both fell over, but the other part—the jaded part—froze like a statue.
“Addie?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “Say something.”
“What did you tell him?”
Holding out a shaking hand, she moved her thumb underneath her palm and quickly flipped around a thin silver band I hadn’t noticed until now. The moment the square princess cut diamond settled right-side-up on the third finger of her left hand, something hard punched me in the chest.
“Holy shit.”
“I think I want to get married in October. Definitely in Terrebonne,” she said absentmindedly, a glow of unadulterated happiness washing over her face.
I swallowed the baseball sized lump lodged in my throat. “Well, that’s just… I suppose that… I’m happy for you, Sav.” The words sounded hollow, and I wanted to kick my own ass when the smile faded from her face.
“You’re not happy.” Pursing her lips, she dropped her hand in her lap and twisted the diamond back around toward her palm.
Way to be a dick, Addie.
“No, no, it’s not that,” I stammered. “I’m happy for you, Sav. I really am. You deserve more than a lifetime of happiness.”
“But…?”
“But, nothing,” I lied. “You’re going to make a beautiful bride, and October will be perfect. It’ll give me time to find a small apartment or maybe move back to Terrebonne. I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to move anywhere,” she said, shaking her head in protest. “I’m going to be moving in with Pope.”
“Sav, I can’t afford to rent this place all by mysel
f.”
“You can if you stop being so damn stubborn and let Zep move in.”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Even the idea stressed me out to the point I swore I was breaking out in hives.
“Addie, you’re my sister, and I love you, but you need to pull your head out of your ass. Zep has been doing everything possible to step up to his responsibilities. If you don’t see that, it’s because you choose not to, not because he’s not there for you.”
“I don’t want to be a responsibility,” I answered honestly. “I don’t want to live with him or marry him out of some misplaced obligation. For God’s sake, twenty-four hours before his first proposal, he broke up with me.” I shook my head defiantly. “We’re too unstable for that kind of commitment.”
Turning to face me, Savannah placed a hand on my knee. “He’ll never let you move back to Terrebonne and make him a part-time dad.” A sly smile parted her lips. “Besides, you know if you lived with Babs, your kid’s first word would probably be cocksipper.”
I laughed despite the seriousness of our situation. Glancing at my watch, I groaned at how much time had slipped away. Rush hour would be insane, and we’d be lucky to make it into the office before anyone else.
I had no idea what the hell to do about Zep, but I’d be damned if I’d continue ruining my baby sister’s big moment with my angsty bullshit. And honestly, it’d be nice to concentrate on something other than morning sickness and mood swings.
“So, a swamp wedding, huh?”
Savannah stood and extended a hand, pulling me out of my chair. “Yep. I’m thinking bare feet, bonfires, and Babs’ beer can chicken.”
Deciding to keep my other news to myself, I gave my sister a tight hug and kissed her cheek. “Exactly how a Dubois wedding should be.”
“What the hell do you mean, you don’t have time? You have a whole staff who do everything for you but wipe your ass, Roland. All you have is time,” I yelled into the speaker phone.