“That’s some interesting bartering.”
“You started it.” He slid his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “I figure we got through some of the worst anybody gets through. And here we are. I don’t see the point in wasting time. So, you want the cabinet, you live here. We should probably get married.”
She choked, managed to swallow the wine. “We should probably?”
“I’m not coming up with some fancy proposal.”
“How about something between we-should-probably and fancy?”
“Do you want to get married?”
Now she laughed. “I guess that’s between. Well, I want the cabinet. I want you. So... yeah, I guess I want to get married.”
“It’s a good deal,” he said as he stepped to her.
“It’s a very good deal.” She laid her hands on his cheeks. “Simon.”
He pressed his lips to her right palm, then the left. “I love you.”
“I know.” She slid into his arms. “It’s the best feeling in the world, knowing. And every time I look at that cabinet, put a glass in, take a bottle out, I’ll know it. It’s an incredible gift.”
“It’s a trade.”
“Of course.” She laid her lips on his, lingered.
She was free, she thought, and she was loved. And she was home.
“Let’s go tell the boys,” she murmured.
“Right. I’m sure they’ll want champagne and cigars.” Still he took her hand to walk out. “Let’s make it fast. I’m starving.”
He made her laugh, and that, she thought, was another very good deal.