Jennifer Greene - Blame It On Paris

"A letter," she said. "Actually a letter and a check. Or an international money order, to be precise, rather than a check-check. Not that I've seen anything like this before, but-"

"Kelly, spit out what you're talking about." His arm protectively around her, he determinedly led her inside now. Lawn mowers were still droning in the distance, a few kids in the street playing kickball. but the sun was dropping like a stone.

Inside Kelly's front door, Will switched on the overhead, which happened to be an old brass chandelier, and immediately smelled fresh paint, dried fresh varnish. The front hall looked extraordinarily different, with crown moldings and gleaming wood floors. She'd done wonders, which didn't surprise him. The only things out of place were the two torn pieces of paper on the floor.

"It was for…well. I had to convert it from euros. But I think it was for about a half million dollars. And believe me, I couldn't wait to tear it up," Kelly told him.

He saw her eyes. All the hurt, all the fury. Another time, he would have pressed a hand on his heart to make sure it didn't leap out of his chest, but he needed to clarify the situation before indulging in a heart attack. "You tore up a check for a half million dollars?" he repeated.

"I don't want it! I never wanted his stupid money, Will! I don't want anybody's money! Money is just…" She made whirling motions with her hands.

"I know. It's just money." he said, soothing her, loving her another zillion-years' worth. She really didn't give a damn about fortunes, at least not in the way most people in his life always had.

"He got the results from the stupid DNA test. He also got all my e-mails, all the ones he never answered. But now he says he read them. And when he got the DNA results, he sent the check, admitted he was wrong. He should have acknowledged me before. He wants to get to know me now. He regrets not being part of my growing-up years and all that, blah-blah-blah."

Tears spattered from her eyes. Not a gush of them, just a little splash.

'That's what you wanted."

"I didn't want money. I wanted him to know me. To want to know me. To really believe I didn't want anything from him but to find out who my father was. The check feels like a stupid payoff."

Again Will shot a quick look at the torn-in-two check. At least she hadn't shredded it. It might just tape back together. Not that he was inclined to mention that now.

One of them had to be practical in this life.

Will knew which one of them was going to be. But right now, he locked the door-physically and in every other sense-against any and all intrusions. Including practical ones.

"You know what?" he murmured, and pulled her into his arms again.

"What?"

"Whatever you do about your dad, I'll be standing next to you."

"Whatever you're stuck with. Will, I want to be standing next to you."

The kiss that followed seemed softer than silver, shinier than gold. He gave from his heart, showing her his heart. He'd never done that before…really, truly, revealed his naked heart to anyone. But Kelly knew him, better than he knew himself.

He could trust her, more than he even could himself.

"I'm thinking," he said, "that I'd really like to see what you've done with the upstairs…"

"Brilliant idea," she assured him, and turned toward the stairs. "You want to start with a shower?"

"Yes. Together. But I'd really like to show you the box in my pocket first."

"Oh. Oh, yes, the box." She lifted her head, showing him the mischievous smile, the brown eyes so full of emotion. The Kelly he'd first fallen in lust with. The Kelly he'd later fallen hopelessly in love with.

He dug in his pocket, and emerged with the velvet box. Because she never could wait more than two seconds for a present, she pounced.

She fell silent as she looked at the contents.

"Will," she said quietly, "there are two rings here. Not one."

"I know. The big one-the hussy- I thought you'd better have a three-carat sparkler, so your mom would like me."

Her head shot up. "She already likes you."

"I know, I know. I've been making headway with her, but this is insurance. The other one, though…"

"I love the other one, Will."

"I hoped you would. It was my great-grandmother's. I know, it's not as big. And it's a really old-fashioned setting, but…" He couldn't finish, because she had wound her arms around his neck. Again. And just hugged. Fiercely. Ardently.

"Ask me," she ordered him.

"Will you? Be my bride, my wife, share life and love with me?" Hell. He knew he wouldn't say it well. He didn't do emotional stuff well. But he hoped she could hear all the love in his voice. The need, the want, the feeling.

"I will. If you'll be my husband, my mate, my love through life." she whispered back.

Hours and hours later, she murmured from the pillow next to him, "Do you want to honeymoon in Paris?"

He answered with the obvious. "We can, but we don't have to travel to do that."

"Huh?"

"You are my Paris, Kel. You always will be." And he kissed her again, just to make sure she understood what he meant.