I was pretty sure she didn’t know I’d listened to the tail end of it, shamelessly eavesdropping like Mrs. Crabtree always did. Hearing her say that she’d thought about marrying me, having my kids, almost knocked me over. But it’d felt like the wrong time to talk about it, considering we were in our therapist’s office and our next stop was a cemetery. It was probably still wrong since we hadn’t left the cemetery. But now that the idea was in my head, I couldn’t get it out.
I wasn’t in the least bit prepared. We were in the least romantic spot possible. And it’d been an incredibly emotional day. But that didn’t stop me from asking, “Will you marry me?”
“Will I—what?” she sputtered.
I gathered her hands in mine and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. “I know to anyone else this proposal would be all wrong because to them it would be horribly unromantic. But they’re not us.”
“I—I—” she stammered, and I kissed her again to stop the flow of words, assuming she would’ve regained the ability to speak.
When her lips stopped moving, I pulled away and whispered, “I’ll give you the big romantic proposal later, with me down on one knee with a ring if that’s what you want. But I needed to do this here and now. While I feel closer to Declan than I have in five years. Where maybe he could witness me asking the tough girl who stole my heart if she’d do me the honor of being my wife. If she’d spend the rest of her life with me, because she makes me happier than I’ve ever been before. I already know we’ll love each other through sickness and health, in good times and bad. But I’d still like to make it official. Give you my last name. Make you a Montgomery officially, even though you’re already one in every other way that matters.”
“Yes,” she gasped, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Happy ones this time.
“Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you. I don’t need the big romantic proposal later. Or you down on one knee. Or even the ring.” She cupped my cheeks with her palms and pressed her forehead against mine. “All I need is you to make me happy. Through sickness and health. Good times and bad. Just like you said.”
“So I didn’t fuck this up?”
“No, honey. Not even close. I understand why you wanted to do it this way. Weddings are supposed to be about family.”
And ours would be. The tension between my parents and me had taken its toll on Faith as well. She’d grown close to them, especially my mom, but she’d felt like she needed to take my side while we worked through everything. So she’d kept her distance because that’s what I’d been doing. But we didn’t need to do that. Not anymore.
Chapter Eighteen
Dillon
“You’re right. Weddings are about family, which is why we should head over to my parents’ house and share the news with them.”
She jerked back and stared at me with wide eyes. “What? Really? Is that what you want to do?”
“Yeah, baby. It’s exactly what I want.”
Her smile was all I needed to see to confirm it was the right thing to do for both of us. “Are they even home right now?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” I turned on the engine and hit the button on the in-dash screen to pull up the phone app. “Call Dad.”
I confirmed that’s what I wanted it to do, and then the phone was ringing through the speaker system. He picked up on the second one. “Dillon?”
"Hey, Dad.”
“It’s good to hear your voice, son.”
“I’ve got Faith with me.”
“Hey, Faith. You guys okay?”
“Yeah, Dad. It’s better than okay.” Faith and I shared a secret smile. “We’re in the car, and we were calling to see if you and Mom were at home. We wanted to stop by if you guys were available.”
“Yeah, we’re home.” He cleared his throat roughly. “And we’re always available to you and Faith. Any time. Day or night.”
“Can we come over now?” Faith asked.
“Now definitely works for us.”
“Tell Mom to break open a bottle of champagne, will you?”
I knew he’d catch the hint and realize we were coming over for a good reason. Just like my mom used hot chocolate for bad times, champagne was for celebrating. She’d even let Declan and me have it during the bigger occasions, but she mixed it with juice when we were teenagers.
“I’ll do that, son.”
When we pulled up in front of their house, my parents were already waiting for us at the door. After I parked the car, I led Faith up the steps. Then I dropped my hand from her back and moved to my mom, wrapping my arms around her. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, Dillon,” she cried. She hugged me back, her hands gripping me tightly.
When she finally let go and stepped back, there were tears on her cheeks but she was smiling. I turned and found Faith standing with my dad’s arm around her shoulders, but she quickly moved forward to give my mom a hug too. My dad did the same with me.
“It’s great to see you two,” he said as he ushered us into the house.
“And your dad said something about needing bubbly?” my mom asked, her eyes filled with excitement as they darted between Faith and me. When she glanced at Faith’s belly, I groaned.
“Yeah, Mom. But not for that reason.”
“That reason?” Faith echoed. “What’d I miss?”
“If I had to guess, Mom thought maybe we wanted to celebrate me knocking you up,” I murmured in her ear.
“I’m not pregnant!” she gasped, her cheeks filling with pink.
“I know, but my mom is baby crazy,” I whispered. “So now that we’re engaged, be prepared for her to repeatedly ask when we’re going to give her a grandbaby.”
“She’s going to have to wait for that,” Faith whispered back. “I have a master’s degree to earn first, and with my health issues getting pregnant probably won’t be easy.”
“I had assumed you had told your dad to have me break out the champagne because you had good news, but with the way you two are whispering back and forth I’m starting to wonder.” The happiness that’d been in my mom’s eyes out on the front porch had dimmed, and now she looked worried.
“We do have good news,” I reassured her. “But before I share it with you, I wanted to let you both know that I appreciate the time you’ve given me to come to terms with what happened. You backed off and gave me the time I needed, and I know that couldn’t have been easy for either of you.”
My mom reached out for my dad’s hand, and they held on tight to each other while they listened.
“The therapist I’ve been seeing has helped me work through my feelings about what happened with Declan. To understand it was an accident, and I wasn’t at fault for what happened. And that you guys did the best you could in a horrible situation.”
“Dillon,” my mom gasped. “Does that mean you forgive us?”
“Of course I do, Mom. But only for lying to me about it for so long,” I added. “Because you never needed my forgiveness about the decision you had to make. For that you have my gratitude because you saved my life.”
My mom and dad rushed forward to hug Faith and me again.
“I’m proud of you, son. Your forgiveness and acceptance is more than I expected and in less time than I anticipated.” My dad patted me on the back before letting go. "Someday, God willing, you'll have children of your own. Then you’ll understand how hard our decision was, and how much your understanding means to us.”
“It wasn’t easy, but you taught me to not give up when the going gets hard. Especially when you’re fighting for something important, and family is everything.”
He clapped me on the back again. “I can’t tell you how good it is to hear you say that, Dillon. Seeing you in the office these past weeks and knowing you were in pain; it’s been difficult not being able to do anything about it.”
“It wasn’t easy for me, either.” I’d always been close to my dad, and I hadn’t been sure how to act around him with the distance
between us—even though it’d been at my request. “But it means a lot that you trusted me to figure it out on my own.”
“There’s a time in every parent’s life when they’ve got to let go and trust in the fact that they raised their children right. Your mom and I are lucky because even with all the challenges over the past five years, you turned out so well.”
“So very well,” my mom added, giving me another hug.
When Faith moved to my side and laced her fingers through mine, I realized we’d gotten sidetracked and I still hadn’t given them the big news. “You also have my thanks for saving my fiancée’s life.”
“Fiancée? You’re engaged?” my mom shrieked. Her gaze dropped down to Faith’s hand, and she frowned when she didn’t spot a diamond on her finger. “No ring?”
Faith shook her head and answered for me. “Not yet.”
“Dillon! Did your father teach you nothing about being romantic?” my mom admonished me.
“Actually,” I drawled, looking at my dad. “I was hoping you’d let me have Grandma’s engagement ring. I think Faith would love it, and it’s an heirloom which makes it even more perfect because she’s already family.”
“Dillon! No, you don’t have to do that. We can go pick out a ring or something. I’m not even used to wearing jewelry. It doesn’t have to be something fancy,” Faith protested.
“Oh, sweetie.” My mom’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s going to change if I have anything to do with it.”
“My son’s right,” Dad added. “My mother’s engagement ring would be perfect for you, and it might just be big enough for Dillon to be satisfied. It’s in the safe in my office. I’ll go get it.”
“Big enough?” Faith echoed softly.
“Yeah, baby. To warn off other guys,” I explained.
“Don’t blame Dillon. He comes by it naturally.” My mom held her left hand out and laughed. “It took years for me to get accustomed to the weight of wearing this every day, and I was already a big fan of jewelry so I had a head start on you.”
Faith pointed at my mom’s ring and stared up at me with wide eyes. “Your mom’s ring is huge. I noticed it when we first met, and I never pay attention to jewelry. Please tell me your grandma’s engagement ring isn’t that big.”
“Well,” I laughed. My mom burst into a fit of giggles. They were just dying down when my dad came back in the room. “Get ready to crack open that bottle of champagne, honey. We get to see our boy put my mom’s ring on our girl.”
To anyone else, his choice of phrasing might’ve sounded odd; like incest or something since he’d called me their boy and Faith their girl. But for Faith, I knew it sounded like exactly what it was—unconditional acceptance. Or in one word...family. Something she’d never experienced before. But I could give her that.
My dad gave me the jewelry box, and I flipped it open. I remembered my grandma telling me about her engagement ring when I’d asked her if the stone was dirty since it was yellow. I was only six at the time, but her lesson about canary yellow diamonds stuck with me. At five karats, the stone in the ring was big, even by my mom’s standards. I figured that the only reason I was able to get it on Faith’s finger without her freaking out was because her vision was clouded by tears at what my dad had said. But that was fine by me. It was on there, and it was never coming off.
Epilogue
Dillon
7 Years Later
“Dillon!” I felt the jab of an elbow in my side before I heard Faith panting my name. “Wake up!”
I’d had a long week at the office, trying to get caught up on all my work. I wanted to be ready to hand off any projects I wouldn’t be able to finish, so I wouldn’t have anything distracting me during my leave of absence. Then it’d been an even longer weekend since we’d been at a gymnastics meet from Friday afternoon through Sunday night.
“What?” I asked groggily.
She jabbed me in the side again. “I’m in labor. You need to call your parents, wake Cynthia up, and grab my overnight bag. We have to get to the hospital because they’re already coming closer together.”
“You’re in labor?” I yelped, jumping out of bed to toss on clothes.
In the time it took me to finish everything she’d told me to do, Faith had gotten dressed and climbed into the passenger seat of her Beetle.
“Faith,” I growled. “We’re not taking your car. Get into the SUV.”
“We are too taking my car.” She folder her arms and glared at me. “Or at least I am, so if you and Cynthia want to ride with me you’d better get in the car.”
Cynthia was still sleeping, so I bundled her into the backseat and tossed Faith’s overnight bag on the floor behind the driver’s seat. “I can’t believe I’m driving this ridiculous car to the hospital while you’re in labor.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know we’ll be leaving it there,” she grumbled. “You’re finally getting what you want. One of my co-workers is buying it from me. I figured as long as we’re already going to be there, I might as well make it easy for her to pick it up. Now you won’t have to worry about me driving around with Cynthia and the baby anymore.”
“I’m always going to worry.” But I’d worry a fuck of a lot less now that I could get her a safer vehicle. I hadn’t known she was talking to someone at work about buying the car, probably because Faith knew I would’ve offered to pay them to take it off her hands. After she had completed her master’s degree in only eighteen months, she’d decided to take the job offer she’d received from Southeast Memorial.
It hadn’t been an easy choice because the county’s office for the Department of Children and Families also wanted her to come work for them as a case worker for kids in the foster system. In the end, the hospital won out because they had a program which allowed their employees to use paid time to volunteer for up to twenty hours a year. Between that and the vacation time they gave her, she had enough free time to keep working with foster kids in high school to make sure they were aware of their college opportunities. The program had remained important to her, bringing her and my mom even closer as they continued to work on it together.
She’d been working at the hospital for almost two years when we decided we wanted to try for a baby and talked to Dr. Stewart about it. She’d remained mostly healthy during all that time, with some anti-rejection medication adjustments needed here and there to keep her that way. He gave us the go ahead, but it took almost three years before we got a plus sign on a pregnancy test. I figured the wait had been meant to be, just like Faith and me, because we met the first child we took in as a foster a year into trying.
Holly was a nine-year-old girl with severe asthma whose mom had passed away from congestive heart failure. Her father was in the military and was stationed overseas when it happened. They’d been in the foster system when they met, so there wasn’t any family to take Holly in until he could make it back home. Placing her in a home was difficult because her asthma was exacerbated by her grief over the loss of her mom. When Faith, as her hospital social worker, and Sarah, as the case worker assigned to her by the state, put their heads together to come up with a solution to help her—Sarah got us certified on an emergency basis to take Holly in.
After she was reunited with her father, Faith and I decided we wanted to get certified to take in more foster kids, and Cynthia was our first placement after the process was finished. And that’s how the delay in getting pregnant had resulted in us finding our six-year old daughter and adopting her the same week we found out we were pregnant with the baby we were apparently going to have tonight—two weeks earlier than planned.
When we arrived at the hospital, we were ushered up to the labor and delivery floor. Faith was pre-registered, and she knew most of the hospital staff, so we were set-up with a room right away. Her labor was quickly progressing, so one of the aides took Cynthia to play in the waiting room until my parents made it there. Less than four hours later, we were the proud parents of a baby boy.
“Maybe on the outside, but on the inside I was more scared than I’d ever been in my life—counting all that time when I thought I was going to eventually die from kidney failure. I don’t think I want to go through that again.”
“We’ve got our two, that’s more than enough for me.”
“Our two,” she repeated, her eyes filling with tears. “I never thought I could love you more than I did on our wedding day, but the way you are with Cynthia and how I know you’ll be with our son...I can’t possibly explain how incredible you are or how much I love you.”
“You don’t need to, baby. Because I feel the exact same way about you.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead and stared down in awe when they brought our son back over to us. We spent the next thirty minutes examining his fingers and toes, getting to know our son. Then one of the nurses reminded us that we had impatient grandparents and a big sister in the waiting room hoping to meet the newest member of the Montgomery family.
“You ready for visitors?” I asked Faith.
“Absolutely!” She beamed up at me. “I’m always ready for our family.”
The nurse went and got them, and my mom made a beeline for the baby as my dad carried a sleepy Cynthia into the room.
“Meet Declan Lloyd Montgomery,” I said as I lifted my son off Faith’s chest and handed him to my mom.
“You named him after your brother and father?” she sobbed. My dad moved to her side and peered down at the baby. Cynthia rested her head against his chest, smiling around the thumb she shouldn’t have had in her mouth at her brother.
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