Chapter 22: Not Yet

"Not yet," I said.

He stayed on one knee on the wet boards, with the steel ring in his open hand.

He did not look hurt, only patient, as though he had expected it.

"Tell me why," he said.

"Because I'm already your wife."

"Yes."

"Your mother forged a paper, and now the county says I belong to you."

My voice shook.

"I don't want to be handed back, Declan. I want to pick you, on a day when nobody has made the choice for me."

"That's fair."

"That's all you're going to say?"

"I said I'd wait."

He closed his hand around the band.

"I've been waiting for seven years," he said. "Another few weeks is a short stretch of road."

"Don't be noble."

"I'm not. I'm greedy. I want you to say it and mean it, and I'll take as long as that takes."

He got up off the boards.

He took my hand, and put the ring back on my finger, and it slid around loose on the knuckle.

"Keep it," he said. "It's yours either way."

I looked at the ring.

I looked at him.

"Come back to the bakery," I said.

"Steph..."

"I didn't say yes. I said come back to the bakery."

The bakery was dark and smelled of yeast.

I turned the key behind us and didn't turn on the lights.

A little gray moonlight came in through the front window and lay across the long table.

He stood just inside the door with his hands at his sides.

"This is where I stopped you," I said.

"I remember."

"I told you I was married."

"You did."

"I was." I walked up to him. "I am. I checked. It's you."

He made a sound, low in his chest.

I took hold of his jacket and pulled him to the table.

He let himself be walked backward until his hips met the edge.

Then he caught my face in both hands.

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