Firefly Island by Lisa Wingate Read Free Book Online

or . . .” Mentally, I cycled through the arguments. This was nuts. Even thinking about it was nuts.
    â€œLive with us.” His gaze tangled with mine, his free hand rising, covering my fingers so that he had me in a double grip.
    â€œYou want me to . . . move in with you guys?” It was one of the things I’d promised myself I would never do. Call me old-fashioned, and this was the twenty-first century, but I still had Grandma Louisa and her Southern wisdom aboutcows and milk in the back of my mind. What kind of idiot would move across the country, give up her job, her family, and everything else to move in with a guy?
    An idiot hopelessly in love . . . maybe? Or maybe not. My parents had raised me not to sacrifice my principles. It was a strange dichotomy, considering what my father did for a living. Lobbyists aren’t known for principles.
    Daniel laughed softly, his lips forming a lopsided grin. He lifted his chin, those gorgeous eyes sparkling, mesmerizing. “I’m asking you to marry me. I’ve been thinking about it since I left to get the map.”
    I felt moisture on my hands, as if suddenly his skin had gone hot. “You decided that . . . while you were out buying the map ?” I stammered, shocked and incredulous, though I didn’t want to be. Past pain leaves behind unfortunate slug trails of cynicism. Everyone who comes into your life afterward can’t help stepping in them. I’d had a man ask me to marry him on a whim once before. In the aftermath, I knew we weren’t meant for each other, and maybe I wasn’t meant for marriage at all.
    Groaning, Daniel let his head fall forward. “Ugh . . . I’m really botching this.” I felt a little tremble in his hands, but there was a resoluteness in his jaw. “I love you, Mallory Hale. I have from the first time I met you. That may sound corny. Man, I know it sounds corny. I feel like I’m channeling some sappy made-for-cable movie here, but it’s the truth. I can’t help it. That’s all I have to offer, Mal. A sappy-sounding line, Nick and me, stomach-flu germs from the day care, and a life that looks like it might be an adventure. I don’t have a lot of money or a big house, and the week I met you was probably my first and last time to rub elbows with the political power brokers. I know it’s not what you planned on. I know you’re used to better.”
    There is no one better, I thought, but instead, I said, “Well, if there’s adventure and the stomach flu involved, then count me in.”
    Irreverent laughter spilled from his lips. “You know I’m serious here, right?”
    I met his gaze, tumbled in, and saw the future. Not in the crisp clarity of photos—because I couldn’t picture this over-the-rainbow life he was describing, or me in it—but in shades of color. The soft grays of mornings, the muted rose and violet of sunsets, the stark, blinding yellows and whites of middays. I saw holidays and seasons and years. Growing up, growing outward, growing old. I didn’t want to live one year, one season, one day without Daniel and Nick.
    â€œI know you’re serious,” I whispered. My heart traveled on the words. I felt like His Irish Bride . Amy Ashley was right about the St. Patrick’s Day thing. She had to be. This was some kind of magic. “There is nobody better than you, Daniel Webster Everson. Nobody in the whole world. If you’re going to Texas, then I guess I’m . . .” Gulp. My throat tightened. I wasn’t sure I could say it. By sheer force of will, I managed to croak, “Going to Texas, too.”
    There. The deed was done, the promise made. A rush of emotions came at me, leaving me confused and uncertain. What did I do now? Call a moving company? Write a resignation letter for my job? Tell the Gymies good-bye, leaving Kaylyn with a blank check