Page 2 of The Write Choice

Then, a little bubbly giggle bursts out of Mason’s mouth. I gasp.

“Holy shit. Did he just laugh?” I breathe, afraid to make too much noise and spook him out of this moment.

Brandon can’t take his eyes off the baby, a smile spreading across his own face. “I think so.”

“Do it again!” I insist. He does, and Mason giggles. This time, the sound is unmistakable. “He laughed!” I grab Brandon’s arm, and his breath hitches. “Oh my god. Brandon! He laughed!”

“Was that the first time?” Brandon asks, still staring at the baby.

“Yes! I’ve never heard that before. That is, without a doubt, the best sound in the entire world.”

“Close.” Brandon turns his face so he’s looking intently at me. “I still think yours comes in first.”

I face him, our noses almost touching. My lips part gently as I search his eyes for even a drop of teasing. There’s none. He truly thinks my laugh is a better sound than our son’s.

Our son.

Holy shit. We made this baby together. We haven’t been at it very long, but we are raising this baby together. The energy in the room shifts suddenly.

We’re an “us” now.

He just made this baby laugh, and I got to hear it for the first time. And, in the midst of it all, he still managed to compliment me and make my toes feel curly and my belly feel tingly.

I can tell from the heat in his gaze that Brandon feels it, too. Suddenly, I desperately want him to kiss me. Right here. Over our giggly baby. I could move a centimeter forward and…

“Marry me,” he whispers.

This feels different than every other time he’s asked. It’s never been unintentional before, but he’s started getting creative in his comments, and most of them have turned into a joke—an obligatory part of every evening, on the off chance I’ve changed my mind.

This time, it’s real. His desire is palpable. Even Mason is quiet, as if they’re both waiting for me to realize what I’ve probably known all along.

I love him.

I love Brandon. I love our baby. I love this little life we’ve created together, even if it’s not exactly how I pictured it happening. Maybe especially because it’s not.

“Yes,” I whisper back.

Brandon looks at me in silence for a long second, then reels backwards, eyes wide as if the word just hit him. “Wait. What? You said yes?”

I laugh, and his eyes brighten. “Yes, you idiot.”

“Shit. I didn’t expect you to say yes. Let me…” he trails off, looking around helplessly. He hands me the baby, then stands. “This wasn’t how that was supposed to go.” He runs over to his coat and pulls a box out of the pocket.

“What are you doing?” I rest the baby against my chest.

Brandon gets on one knee in front of me. “I’m doing this how it’s supposed to be done.” He puts one hand on top of the box and holds it from the bottom with the other.

“You just carry a ring box around with you?”

“No,” he pouts. “I carry a ring in a ring box with me.”

“On the off chance I’d say yes one of these times?” I ask, incredulous.

“Well… yeah.” He says it as if it’s the most natural thing to do.

“Isn’t it supposed to be done in a fancy restaurant with candlelight and cheesecake or something?” I tease.

He stops, lowering his hands. “Is that what you want? We can do whatever you want. Anything. Just tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”