by B. B. Hamel
“Baby.”
I laughed. “No.”
“Come on.” He kissed me again. “It’s so fun to make them.”
“Yeah, but it’s not fun to have them.”
“You know you want another.”
I sighed. “I do want a bigger family.”
“Well okay then. Let’s get to work.”
“But two kids out of wedlock? My parents would faint.”
“Fortunately, your parents think you’re dead.”
I frowned. I hated that part of our lives. We hadn’t been able to tell anyone when we left, and I had left behind everyone I knew.
He kissed me. “Sorry. Bad joke.”
“It’s okay.”
“Can I make it up to you?”
“You can.”
“Good.” I thought he was going to kiss me again. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
I stared at it. “What is that?”
“It’s an engagement ring. Marry me.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m serious.”
“I thought it would bring too much attention to us.”
“Fuck it. I want you. Let’s make it official.”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”
He put the ring on my finger, and I kissed him, kissed him hard and long.
It was exactly what I needed. Maybe not what I ever imagined, but it was what I needed. I had my baby, I had my husband, I had my life. I felt complete and at peace for the first time in a very, very long time.
With Rafa, I knew everything was going to be good. He held me, kissed me, did things that no other man could do.
He took whatever might be missing inside me, gave it shape, and gave it to me.
He fixed me, righted me, and I couldn’t do this without him.