Saint Patrick’s Day, One Year Later

 

Faith

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

From his place in front of the stove, Isaac turned to look at me, grinning. “What’re you worried about, honey? It’s just dinner—and it’s just you and me. I’m cooking a delicious meal for you while you get to sit there and talk with me. No party this year. No pretend Irish jigs. No green beer.”

“Well, thank heavens for that.” I crossed my arms and leaned on the table. “But we could just pretend it’s another day. Nothing special.” But even as I said the words, I knew them for a lie. Butterflies waged battle in my stomach as I thought about how I wanted this evening to go, what I planned to say and to do.

“Faith, every day I spend with you is something special.” Carefully laying the fork on a dish towel, he turned around and braced his hands on either side of me until his face was close to mine. “I never stop thanking my lucky stars that we’re together—that you’re mine, and that you’ve taken me as yours.”

I tilted my head up and smiled, blinking back the tears that sprang to my eyes. “All right, you’ve got me there.” I leaned up slightly and brushed a kiss over Isaac’s lips.

“And don’t think of this as St. Patrick’s Day—look at it as our anniversary.” He grinned and dropped a quick kiss on the tip of my nose before he straightened and returned to the stove. “A year ago today was the first time we were . . . together.”

“Ah, you mean it was the first time we had sex? The first time we shacked up? The first time we fu—”

“The night when I knew for sure that I was falling in love with you,” Isaac interrupted, giving me a faux stern glare.

“My sweet romantic.” I sighed. “All right, then. Let’s celebrate. Is that corned beef ready yet?”

“Not corned beef,” he corrected me. “I made your aunt Corey’s recipe of meatballs with gravy and cabbage.”

“Oooooh.” I rubbed my hands together. “Now that sounds wonderful. I’m starving.”

“Give me a minute to make sure the gravy’s thick enough. Corey says if you don’t watch it closely, it’ll end up a lumpy mess.” He glanced over his shoulder at me, and I noticed an extra gleam in his eye. “Can you grab the napkins, Faith?”

“Of course.” Standing, I moved to the small cupboard on the other side of the kitchen and pulled out two cloth napkins. “I’ll even choose the green ones out of respect to the day, so that should make you–”

I came to an abrupt halt and stopped speaking when I turned back toward the table and saw my boyfriend on one knee next to the chair I’d just vacated.

“Faith Evans.” Isaac’s voice wobbled just a little, and he cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving mine. “You are the first woman I ever loved, and you’re going to be the last. I’ve been patient for an entire year now, just doing whatever I could to prove myself to you. I’m tired of waiting. I want our life together to begin officially. Will you be my wife?”

There wasn’t even a modicum of doubt in my mind or on my heart. In the past year, Isaac had proven himself to be the man I’d wanted as long as I could remember. He was steady, kind, loving and dependable—but what was more wonderful was that on occasion, he could be wickedly funny, adventurous, and sometimes, just to prove he wasn’t perfect, he got a little bit snippy with me.

Thank the saints for that fact, because living with a perfect man would’ve been a total nightmare.

“I’m not sure if I should give you my answer before or after I show you . . . this.” Reaching under the table, I pulled out a small gift bag and held it toward Isaac.

“A present? For me?” His expression was equal parts intrigue and trepidation. I’d learned over this past year that Isaac’s family of origin had not celebrated birthdays or secular holidays, and he’d never received a gift before he’d moved onto Sam and Meghan Reynolds’ farm. When I’d heard that, I’d begun planning his birthday party immediately. And I’d made sure to go just the tiniest bit overboard on Christmas and Valentine’s Day, too.

“It won’t bite you,” I teased. “At least, not right away.”

Isaac accepted the bag gingerly, but he didn’t open it right away. “I think I want your answer first.” He twined his fingers with mine. “No matter what this gift might be, it couldn’t change the fact that I love you and want you for all time.”

“Well, aren’t you the most amazing man I’ve ever known.” I squeezed his hand and leaned forward a bit, laying a searing kiss on his lips. “All right. My answer is . . . yes, of course, I’ll marry you, Isaac. I love you with every bit of my heart, and I don’t plan to stop doing that for at least the next one hundred years.”

His smile was blinding. “I’ll take a hundred years, and then . . .well, we’ll see what came after that.”

I laughed. “You’re always the optimist. Now will you open your gift, please?”

With one cocked eyebrow, he reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of tissue paper. When he shook it, a bit of green material fell onto his knee. Isaac held up the small T-shirt and read the words printed on the front.

“Kiss me, it’s my first St. Patrick’s Day.” He frowned and I grinned as I watched the pieces fall into place. “Faith . . . are you sure? I mean, you’re . . .” He gestured to my midsection. “Are you already expecting, or is this your way of saying that you’re ready to begin trying?”

I chuckled. “The trying is over, my fertile friend. I know we weren’t really putting our minds and bodies to the effort yet, but even so—here we are.” I patted my stomach. “Coming in November. Ready or not.”

“I’m ready.” Isaac dropped my hand and framed my face between his palms. “I’m so happy, Faith. I can’t believe how blessed we are. How lucky I am.”

“A new marriage and a new baby—all in one year.” I laughed, throwing my arms around him. “Can you believe it?”

“I can.” Standing, Isaac scooped me into his arms and nuzzled my neck. “I was brought up to look at luck as an ugly word, Faith. It was a sin to think I was lucky—because all good gifts come from God.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I still believe that part. I’m positive that God gave me you, and God gave us this baby we’ve made together. But I don’t think it’s wrong to thank my lucky stars, too. I don’t think God’s a vengeful being, just waiting for us to mess up so we can be punished. I think God is as tickled about our love as we are.”

Tears filled my eyes again, and this time, I didn’t try to hide them. “I think you’re the wisest man I’ve ever known, Isaac. But tell me, where exactly are you planning to carry me off to?”

A slow smile curled his lips, and his gaze turned fiery. “To our bedroom, so we can celebrate all this good news the best way possible.”

I tilted my head. “But what about the meatballs and the gravy?”

My strong, virile man planted a kiss on my lips, and it was so hot, I was sure my clothes were melting off my body.

“Fuck the meatballs. I want to make love to my fiancée, to the mother of my baby.” He began walking toward our bedroom. “Do you have any objections to that?”

I snuggled closer to his chest, sighing.

“Not even one.”