Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(66)

“I could not agree more,” I say, and then that is exactly what we do.





Chapter Sixteen


Kay


Maybe all the crazy things that have happened lately have resulted in full-on delirium—for both Chase and me. I don’t know, not really. But how else can I explain waking up the morning after discussing love, and marriage, and babies, and suddenly remembering I am now an officially-unofficially engaged woman?

I roll over, smiling, happy. It’s barely dawn, and my cohort in delirium is facing my way. But he’s still sleeping, backlit by early daylight. I don’t want to wake Chase—he looks so peaceful—but the urge to touch him is so strong that I have to reach out, trace the strong line of his jaw.

My touch rouses him. And though his eyes open, we don’t say a word. As the minutes pass, Chase’s lips curve into a smile. And me, I just stare into beautiful blue.

Another beat, and he rolls me onto my back, his body hovering above mine. Suddenly, he pulls the sheet over us to create a cocoon, allowing light the day has birthed to filter in, tingeing our bare skin with a golden glow.

I giggle and he smiles.

We never dressed last night, we were too busy loving. So when Chase lowers his body, all I feel is his warm skin pressed to mine. My breathing picks up, and so does his. I’m so ready for what he has to give me that I spread my legs for him. And he’s in me in an instant, moving, thrusting, and circling his hips.

This is how we start the morning—engaged, in more ways than one, and so very much in love.

Later, at work, things are slow. I have time to keep reliving, over and over in my head, how Chase knelt down before me and asked me to marry him. It sure wasn’t what I expected or how I thought something like that might go, but even so, it was beautiful and felt right.

The sincerity and pure emotion in Chase’s eyes as he was gazing up at me touched my soul. I knew right then and there that his impromptu proposal was perfect in its imperfection.

Imperfectly perfect, just like us.

Before we fell asleep, we discussed whether or not we should share the news of our engagement. But Chase insists he wants to wait until he can buy me a ring and propose once again, as he so eloquently put it, “in the right f*cking way.” He says then it will be completely “official.”

Silly man. He has no idea that last night surpassed anything I’d ever dreamed of. Sincerity and truth mean more than showy formalities. However, I can wait to tell the world if Chase wants me to. I will keep our news quiet. I kind of like the idea, for now, of keeping our engagement our own little special secret.

And then there’s the other topic we discussed—having a baby. Wow, just wow.

The thought of having Chase’s baby fills me with an almost indescribable joy, a deep, profound feminine sort of satisfaction. But there’s fear there, too. And doubt in myself. I don’t know if I’m quite ready to become someone’s mother. Not that I don’t want to do it now, but, damn, what a huge role to undertake.

What if I’m no good at it? What if I fail at motherhood? I sure feel like I failed in the much less significant role of big sister.

It wasn’t your fault, Kay. Chase’s words echo through my mind, urging me to cast away my doubt. But despite how far I’ve come in accepting that I am not to blame for Sarah’s death, a part of me will always feel some degree of guilt. That is the part that makes me hesitate to fully embrace the idea of having a child.

Well, I have time, I remind myself as I pull up the church activities calendar on the computer.

I count back the weeks to June. Then I count forward. Just as I thought, and same as I told Chase last night, I’m not due for another Depo shot until late September. That gives me about six more weeks of birth control protection before any decisions have to be made.

Since I have the activities calendar open, I work on it for a while, updating and adding events. I get lost in what I’m doing until a call comes in, a call from Missy’s mom. She starts the conversation by informing me that Missy is “physically” well enough to be released from the hospital tomorrow morning.

“Oh, that’s great news,” I say.

Since Mrs. Metzger chose the word “physically” to describe Missy’s wellness, I cautiously ask, “How’s Missy doing, like, psychologically.”

Mrs. Metzger clears her throat. “Aw, honey, it’s going to take some time. But Missy will be okay. My daughter is a strong young woman.”

Strong or not, she could probably use a friend, I think.

“Would it be okay if I stop by to see her tomorrow after work?”

Missy’s mom sighs heavily. “Oh, I don’t know, sweetie. Another day might be better. Missy told me this morning that she’s not quite ready to see anyone just yet.”

My heart aches for Missy and the pain she’s feeling. “Okay, I understand. Another day, then.”

“Personally, Kay,” Missy’s mom begins after a brief pause, “I think Missy should be around people. She needs to get back to doing the things she likes to do.”

The whole time she’s speaking, Mrs. Metzger’s voice is low and conspiratorial, like maybe she and I can somehow keep Missy busy and that will miraculously lessen the pain of her loss.

I doubt anything but time will heal Missy’s emotional wounds, but I don’t say a thing.