Weekend Wife (17 page)
Beginning to believe he would, Emily pulled it open and let him in. Without another word, she suddenly found herself swept up into his arms, and—to the amusement and delight of the curious cruisers—carried down the hall.
“Ty!” she cried, pulling at the dinner dress she still wore as it rode up her thigh. “Put me down.”
“No,” he said firmly, and continued down the hallway away from the cheering crowd, up two flights of stairs, across the deck and back to the darkened corner where he’d proposed earlier.
“What are you doing?”
Setting her down, he drew her into his arms and looked down into her large, liquid brown eyes.
“I’m proposing to you.”
“No,” she whispered in agony, wondering why he insisted on torturing her this way.
“Why not?” His voice was exceedingly gentle as he brushed a wispy tendril of hair away from her smooth cheek.
“Because I lied to you.” She hung her head in shame.
Tilting her face back up, he said, “We’ve both been telling lies since the moment we met. At least you were telling them for a good cause. What’s my excuse? If anyone should apologize for lying, it should be me...and, honey, I am truly sorry. For everything.” He took a shaky breath. “Now, Emily, will you marry me?”
Squinting, she drew her lower lip between her teeth and chewed. “What about Helga and Carmen? They’re part of my family now. I can’t leave them for my own selfish life.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” He smiled teasingly. “Bring them along. The old bird can be the mother and the kid can be the daughter. It’s perfect.” He grinned.
“Really?” She looked up at him in wonder.
“Really. Now. Will you marry me?”
Her brow still slightly puckered with determination, she boldly met his gaze. “I want to finish my study of the homeless for the thesis project I’m working on.”
“Fine. Will you marry me?”
“What about school? I want to finish school.” She began to smile.
“School is good. Finish it, by all means. Marry me.”
“What about your career with Connstarr? Roxanne will have your head on a platter—”
“Not a problem. I quit my job. Marry me.”
“You quit?” she gasped in surprise. After all they’d gone through to save it?
“Seemed the honorable thing to do.” He grinned. “Besides, all the better to help you study the homeless. From the streets...where we’ll probably be living,” he said dryly.
“You’d do that for me?”
Tyler looked down into her face with a yearning so bittersweet it brought tears to her eyes. “Sweetheart, don’t you know that I love you so much, I’d live in a cardboard box as long as we could be together?”
“Really?” she whispered, full of wonder at this marvelous man, who was more an extension of her soul than her identical twin could ever be.
“Really.”
Sighing, Emily ran her hands along the sides of his jaw and pulled his lips to hers. “Me, too,” she whispered against their exquisite softness. “Me, too.”
“Marry me?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she answered, and with that simple word, had finally come home to stay.
T
he ever present hum of jet engines lulled Emily Newroth to sleep against the secure strength of her husband’s shoulder. She was exhausted. Ty looked lovingly down at his new bride and gently kissed the top of her head.
They were flying back to Mexico, where they’d first fallen in love, for a real honeymoon this time. Tyler couldn’t wait. No Roxanne. No Helga. No Carmen... Just the two of them in paradise, exactly like he’d fantasized. Not that he wouldn’t miss his adopted mother and daughter. But he definitely wouldn’t miss Roxanne, though she was now his employee.
As the jet slowly began its descent, Emily’s ever present journal slid off her snack tray and into his lap, falling open to the day’s entry. Glancing over at her, Ty whispered, “Honey?”
Emily sniffed and burrowed her head more firmly into his shoulder, smiling in her sleep.
Taking that as a yes, Ty grinned and began to read.
December 31, New Year’s Eve—Our wedding day.
Dear Diary:
Not wanting to forget a single detail of this special day, I’m confiding in you once again the pieces of my life that have nothing to do with scholarly achievement.
The ceremony was so beautiful, the old church in San Francisco never looked more heavenly, filled to the top with poinsettias and pine swags. Thank heavens, my sister Erica was back from her honeymoon with Will in time to stand up with me as matron of honor. It’s wonderful to see them all looking so happy. Her stepchildren seem to positively thrive under her firm but loving touch. I’m still amazed at how grateful they all are that I went to L.A. I’d be hurt if I wasn’t so deliriously happy myself.
Now I have a wonderful family of my own. And, if Ty was serious about what he promised Big Daddy Brubaker, it should be growing soon. I would love that.
Helga and Denny were thick as thieves during the reception, not dancing with anyone but each other. I’d be willing to bet that they will marry before the end of next year. I know I will miss having her live with us, but since she’s now heading up the homeless project for Connstarr, West Coast, she’ll never be far away.
Ty and I both owe Helga, and Denny, too, so much. If she hadn’t been in the bathroom the night that Roxanne had threatened me, maybe Denny would have let Tyler leave the company.
Luckily for us, Denny insisted on appointing him Regional Vice President, and Roxanne, bless her pointy little heart, is pulling shifts in the mail room. Denny thought it was about time she learned the Connstarr way from the ground up. Just like Ty.
The results of my thesis will be published soon, and it is my fervent prayer that in some small way I was able to help. Myself...I just thank the good Lord every day for my wonderful life, and most especially, Tyler, Helga, Carmen, and our happy home.
* * * * *
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8763-1
Weekend Wife
Copyright © 1995 by Carolyn Suzanne Pizzuti
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