“Rhett?” She turns to glance over her shoulder now, but her eyes are less playful this time. More watery. “Did you just write what I think you did?” I shrug and grin at her. “Guess you’ll have to go look.” She shoots off the bed, and I watch her take quick steps across what is basically a construction zone, toward the bathroom. The creases under her ass, the lace framing it, and the words Will you marry me? written on her back.
