Nick Scipio
Tying Up Loose Ends
Summer Camp Swingers: Christy Series Book 7
Contents
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 34
Christy and I lingered over a late breakfast on the patio. She’d already eaten two pieces of cheese toast, an orange, and a cup of yogurt. At the moment she was working on a bowl of strawberries.
“I wish I could do that,” I said.
“It’s a lot of work. And I’m always hungry. It’s annoying.”
“But you get to eat whatever you want.”
“Yeah, that is kinda fun. Even more fun to work up the appetite in the first place. Mmm, midnight sex…”
“It was more like four a.m.,” I chuckled. “Well, by the time you let me go back to sleep.”
“What! You kept me awake. You and Mr. Big. And again, this morning! He woke me up, you know. He was poking me. I had to do something.” She faux-glared. “You didn’t save any cream. For my strawberries.”
I looked down. My penis didn’t even twitch. It even managed to look smug.
“Oh, well,” Christy said lightly. “You’ll make more. It’s what you do. Thank goodness.”
I chuckled and shook my head in amazement. “Never thought I’d meet a girl who likes sex more than I do.”
“It’s your own fault. Besides, we’re still in our honeymoon phase.” She paused and pretended to think of something. She’d been working toward something specific with the conversation, and she’d arrived at it with the word “honeymoon.” She was logical, even if she wasn’t always direct about it.
I hid my amusement and waited for her to continue.
“Sabrina said she and Danny are talking about somewhere in the Caribbean. For their honeymoon, I mean. The real one. Have you thought about where we want to go for ours?”
I didn’t rise to the bait. “Not really. We have time.”
“I suppose.” She wasn’t going to give up that easily. “What do you think about Hawaii? Or maybe Japan? Only, their beaches aren’t as nice. Maybe we can go skiing instead. Do you think we’ll get married in the summer or winter?”
“Whichever we want.”
“Summer, I think. Or maybe the fall. I want nice weather.”
“Of course,” I agreed noncommittally.
“Well, it’s hot in Atlanta in the summer. Hmm, maybe we’ll get married in San Diego. It’s much nicer there. The weather, I mean. Or… do you think we’ll still be in Knoxville?”
“I don’t know.” I stole a strawberry and popped it in my mouth. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”
“But you’re going to,” she prompted.
“You know I am.” I decided to tease her. “We can get married tomorrow, if you want.”
“What?” she squawked. “Paul Dean Hughes, that is not a proper proposal. And if you think I’m going to get married in a courthouse with a Justice of the Pe—”
“Relax! I’m kidding!”
She eyed me warily.
“We’ll get married in a church, in front of a priest, with all our family there.”
“Better.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you really think I’d marry you in a courthouse with a Justice of the Peace?”
“No. Besides, you still haven’t asked me. Not officially. That one doesn’t count. You have to do it right.” She fell silent, in case I had something to add. I didn’t, and she managed almost ten seconds of silence before she said, “You really aren’t going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“When you’re going to ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“Ugh! Sometimes I really don’t like you.”
“Especially when I won’t give you what you want.”
“Mr. Meanie.” She pretended to sulk. Then she thought of a better way to goad me. “Mr. Lonely Bachelor.”
It was a completely empty threat, but her uncertainty wasn’t. I leaned forward and tugged her hand. She resisted at first, but then she rose and moved to my lap. She swung her legs over the arm of the chair and crossed them demurely. I let her get settled before I bent and touched my forehead to hers.
“I love you very much,” I said quietly. “And I’m going to marry you.”
“I know. I love you too.”
“I haven’t decided when or even how I want to ask, though. Besides, I have to do some things first.”
“Like buy the ring?” she asked hopefully. “You could talk to Trip. Or your mother. She has nice taste. Oh, oh, I know! Talk to my nana! She wants to meet you, and she knows tons of places in Boston. She has, like, a million pieces of jewelry. Oh my gosh, she—”
“Stop!” I laughed. “I can buy the ring on my own. Trust me. All I need from you is to be patient.”
Christy’s expression fell, and she pouted for real. “I know. Only, I’m not very good at it.”
“Of course you are. You waited two years for me to get my head on straight and figure out how wonderful you are.”
“Thank you. But I didn’t think it’d take that long.”
“I’m a bit slow on the uptake,” I chuckled.
“Paul, that isn’t ‘slow.’ That’s, like, glacial.”
“Yeah, sorry. I had a lot of things to figure out.”
“You had a lot of wild oats to sow, you mean.”
“But I’m sowing them with you now.”
“I suppose.” She sighed. “No, you’re right. Only, I keep thinking about Wren and Trip.”
“Because they’re engaged?”
She nodded. “I don’t think you understand. That’s part of why I didn’t want to go to Atlanta with them. It isn’t really her fault, but she’s so happy. I just… feel like I’m missing out. I know I’m not—we’re not—but I can’t help the way I feel. I almost didn’t tell you. I don’t want to put any pressure on you. You’ll ask when you’re ready. Besides, you want it to be a surprise.”
I nodded.
“I do too. Only, I want it to be a surprise now.”
I grinned. “That isn’t how a surprise works.”
“I know. But I see how happy Wren and Trip are, and even Kim and Carter, and I want to be like that.”
“You will be.”
“Thank you.” She fell silent but then sighed. “I tell myself it’s just a ring, but… it’s more than that.”
“It’s a commitment,” I agreed.
She shook her head. “It’s a symbol of commitment, one I can show people. I can’t show them ‘love’ or ‘happiness.’”
“You’re right.”
“Thank you. But don’t think you’re getting off that easily,” she warned. “I still want a ring. And a proper proposal.”
“You’ll get them.”
She tilted her face up for a kiss but pulled back before our lips touched. She cocked her head and frowned instead. At that point I heard it too, the sound of an approaching car.
“Oh my gosh, seriously?”
“To be continued?” I chuckled.
“Dammit!” she swore. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.”
My eyebrows rose with amusement.
“Don’t they understand how hard—?” She glanced up nervously. “Never mind. Right when we were about to—! Ugh!” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to relax. “I suppose you think this is funny.”
“Yeah, kinda.”
“Well, it isn’t.”
“I mean, no, absolutely not.”
She glared. “My father does that.”
“He’s a smart man.”
“You’re making fun of me,” she accused.
“Maybe a little.”
“It’s a good thing I love you.”
“Oh, very good,” I agreed. “And I love you.”
Car doors closed behind us.
“Smile and be polite,” I whispered, “and the world’s your oyster.”
“Fine, use my own words against me.” She inhaled sharply, lifted her chin, and pasted on a smile.