Too Late. I'm Married to the Godfather novel · Chapter 20 of 24

Chapter 20: The Ring

I looked at his empty hands for a long time.

Somewhere inside, a game show audience screamed for a new car.

"You're kneeling in the tomatoes," I said.

"I know where I'm kneeling."

"Nonna's going to kill you."

"Doc. Answer the question."

I leaned forward on the bench and put both my hands in his.

"Yes," I said. "On one condition."

His shoulders came down an inch. I hadn't known he was holding them up.

"Anything."

"I pick the ring."

He looked at me. Then he laughed, the low one, and dropped his forehead against my knees.

"I've been carrying a ring around in my jacket for two weeks," he said into my skirt. "Five carats. My grandmother's sister's."

"Then why are your hands empty?"

"Because the last man who knelt to you with a box got a soda-can tab in his palm."

I laughed so hard I had to hold onto his shoulders.

"Get up," I said. "You've got dirt on both knees."

"Then take them off me."

I pulled him up off Nonna's tomato bed by his collar and kissed him under the fig tree.

His hands were cold from the night. His mouth wasn't.

"Upstairs," I said against it.

"Yes, Donna."

"Don't call me that."

"You just let nine men toast you with it."

"That was business."

He picked me up off the bench.

His hands were cold from the garden, and I felt them through my skirt as he carried me up the back stairs, my arms around his neck, my face against his shoulder.

He smelled like night air and the tomato bed.

"You're tracking dirt through Nonna's house," I said.

"She'll blame you."

"Me?"

"Your fault. You said yes."

The stairs creaked.

Below us, a game show contestant spun a wheel while Nonna shouted at the television.

Our bedroom door was open.

He carried me through it and laid me on the bed, my hair loose from the clip, my skirt twisted around my thighs.

He stood over me, undoing his belt.

"You've got a lot of clothes on," I said.

"I noticed."

He pulled the belt free and dropped it.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed, took my bare foot in his hand, and pressed his thumb into the arch.

I made a sound I hadn't planned to make.

"Doc," he said. "We've got time."

He worked his thumb up to my ankle, then both hands up my calf, slow, his eyes on my face.

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