Repeat(72)

Apparently Ed wasn’t getting over the breakup and responding to her attempts at seduction as well as Shannon had hoped, and that’s when she lost it and attacked me the first time. Just to make sure I was out of his life for good. Turns out she has a history of fixating and stalking we knew nothing about. Leif feels awful, for inviting her into our home, for sleeping with her. But I think she would have devised a means to be there one way or another.

She’d been hoping to blame my death in the front yard on my mysterious unknown attacker, obviously. What with the dark and lonely street, and Ed and Leif being fast asleep inside, it might have worked. But Gordy’s barking put an end to that, bringing the brothers Larsen to the rescue. Hard not to believe DNA evidence or something wouldn’t have given her away. But then, Shannon obviously has some issues with reality. Apparently after my untimely demise, Ed having seen what wonderful girlfriend material she made, care of her display with Leif, would have somehow fallen into her arms during his grief. Can’t really imagine Ed taking up with his brother’s ex, but whatever.

Gordy and his mighty bark saved the day. Or the night, rather. Leaving me with another scar and another chance to get things right. A chance that I am not going to mess up. Love and life sure can be scary. But not living your best life, not loving as hard as you can . . . what a terrible waste that would be. And the man standing in front of me is the best of everything.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, gaze warm, loving.

I could soak it in forever. In fact, I think I will. “I have a question, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

“Good point.”

“Go on, Clem. Ask me anyway.”

“All right then,” I say, taking a breath. “Would you marry me?”

Over at the counter, Iris gasps.

But Ed opens his mouth and out comes nothing. Lots of lots of it. The hands on my shoulders falling perfectly still. Oh, fuck me. This isn’t working. There is none of the expected or at least hoped for explosion of love, delight, or any other positive response sort of indicator crossing his face.

“You don’t have to, of course. I mean . . . it was just a thought.”

He licks his lips. “It was just a thought. So you didn’t really mean it? Asking someone to marry you is a pretty serious business. You can’t fool around with that sort of thing.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, or asking rather, would you marry me?” I explain, lungs tight and awful. More emotion than trauma. Or maybe a bit of both. “But then you didn’t say anything and I got scared so it all kind of went sideways.”

He just studies me.

“Maybe we should talk about the weather or something a bit safer than . . . you know . . . weddings.”

Slowly but surely a smile spreads across his face. “Yes.”

Shit. “You want to talk about the weather?”

“No.” He laughs. “Clementine, I would like to marry you.”

“You would?” I exhale, suddenly about a hundred times better than I had been a moment before. This is right. In fact, it’s quite possible the rightest thing I’ve ever done, apart from searching him out in the first place. “Good. That’s good. Phew. I love you, you know?”

“I know. I love you too, baby.”

Perhaps not the most romantic of proposals, but given the state of my poor stomach, getting down on one knee just wasn’t an option. And it worked okay in the end. Then Ed’s mouth covers mine and it hardly even matters that Iris is sobbing loudly in the corner. Ed and I are getting married. This life is great.




Three months later . . .




“I’m not so sure about this.” Hands out to either side, I stand oh so fucking precariously in the stiletto heels. While they do look amazing with my sharp white pantsuit, balance is definitely eluding me. Big time. And my peony bouquet is no help at all.

On the plus side, my French nail polish looks awesome with the antique engagement ring Ed slid on my finger a few months back. Not landing on my ass in the cobblestone street, however, would be good. We’ll obviously be getting no help from the driver since the car just took off. Never mind. It’s just me and my unofficial bridesmaids. Since we decided on keeping things simple, there’s no big wedding procession or anything. But Tessa and Frances have been at my side through all of the recuperating and planning. I’m lucky. This is a fact.

“I told you to practice walking in them,” says Tessa. Pregnancy hasn’t mellowed her much despite all of the glowing. But we’ve been having a huge amount of fun shopping for baby gear and maternity wear. “One of these days you’re going to actually listen to what I say.”

Frances just sighs. “Knew you’d regret the choice of footwear.”

“But they look so fabulous,” I groan. “Maybe I’ll just take them off.”

“No, wait. Knowing your luck, you’ll step on a piece of glass or something. Just hold on a minute, I can fix this.” Tessa strides across the cobble stones in her fancy wedges with nary any difficulty at all. At the restaurant door, she signals to someone inside. A moment later, Nevin comes out, followed by Ed, Leif, and Niels. All of them looking mighty damn fine in black suits. Like seriously, so much eye candy. If I wasn’t head over heels in love with one of them, I wouldn’t know where to look first.