My hand rests on her stomach, my thumb moving back and forth across her skin. “God, I can’t believe I’m marrying you.” “How are we going to do it?” she asks. “I don’t think either of us has the patience for a long engagement.” I shake my head. “Definitely not. I want you to be my wife as soon as humanly possible. I want you where you belong—infiltrating all of my space and sleeping beside me every night.”
