The Island House Chapter 21

Charlotte dashed into the kitchen as the oven timer went off. “Dawson!” she called as she saw the smoke rising from the vents at the back of the stovetop. That wasn’t good. She’d cooked in the oven several times, and she had no idea what she’d done wrong.

He came in from the deck too, just as she opened the oven and a super-heated blast of smoke got released.

She jumped back, coughing and waving the oven mitts in front of her face. So this turkey was not going to be edible.

“What happened?” he asked as if she could see through all the smoke.

“I don’t know.” But they wouldn’t be eating dinner at the house that night. “My parents will be here in fifteen minutes.” She’d made mashed potatoes, creamed corn, and bought rolls and Hawaiian fruit jam to go with them.

“Maybe it’s okay.” Dawson entered the kitchen with her just as the smoke alarm started screeching. He took the oven mitts and reached into the oven to pull out the turkey. After sliding it onto the stovetop and poking at the bag, he said, “It looks okay. I think something maybe just spilled onto the hot elements.”

“Are you sure?” She stepped over to him and the turkey after he closed the oven door. The bird looked brown on top, with the little red pop-out indicator popped out.

He reached for a knife and sliced open the bag. Another puff of steam escaped, but so did the delicious scent of roasted turkey, sage, and butter. “I really think it’s fine.” He turned off the oven and twisted toward her.

She gazed up at him, the smoke alarm still wailing for all it was worth. “So here we are.”

“Back in the kitchen again,” he said. “At least we’re not drenched like last time.”

Charlotte tipped her head back and laughed, realizing the smoke had lifted all the way to the ceiling. There was no one she’d rather experience plumbing problems, smoky ovens, or life with than Dawson.

“Let’s get this place aired out,” he said. “And you finish up with the gift.” He walked out of the kitchen and toward the front door while she surveyed the table settings and the rest of the food still warming in the pots and bowls.

Then she hurried back out to the deck to finish the painting she’d been working on for her parents. Just a few more strokes of white, and the sky over the bay she’d painted would be perfect.

Her brush went flick, flick, flick, and when she heard Dawson’s voice say, “Oh, hello!” much too loudly, she dropped the brush in the cup of water and turned back to the house.

Her parents had arrived.

She tried to make her heart beat normally, but it was not listening. It thumped and pumped and bumped around in her chest almost painfully as she moved to stand in the doorway leading into the dining room.

Halfway in, halfway out. How she’d been living for almost a year.

But not anymore.

She let the air conditioning wash over her while she got her first glimpse of her mom and dad. Then her mother’s eyes locked on hers, and Charlotte squealed.

She darted over to her, navigating around the table and chairs, and hugged her tight, tight, tight.

Her dad wrapped them both in a hug, and Charlotte couldn’t speak through her emotion and tears. Finally, with her chest so tight because she wasn’t breathing, she drew in a deep drag of oxygen and stepped back from the embrace. “You guys made it.”

“Of course we did,” her dad said, smiling down at her.

“And you’ve met Dawson.” Charlotte moved over to him, glad when he put his arm around her easily.

Her parents didn’t hesitate for even a moment. Her dad shook his hand, though Dawson said they’d met at the front door, and her mother hugged him.

“And he’s…?” she asked.

“My boyfriend,” Charlotte said looking up at him with a smile.

“Oh, is it serious?” Her mom set her purse out of the way, on the corner of the counter.

Charlotte studied Dawson, but he was clearly waiting for her to define their relationship. She wanted it to be serious. She felt like it was serious for her.

So she said, “Yeah, it’s pretty serious.”

Dawson’s face exploded into a smile, and he pressed his lips against her temple, leaving them there too long to be a casual kiss. Oh, no. That chaste kiss on her forehead was an indication of what was to come once they were alone, and Charlotte couldn’t wait.

But her parents were here, and joy radiated through her in spirals. “Okay, so dinner is ready. Are you guys hungry?”

“Yes,” her dad growled. “They don’t even give peanuts on the plane anymore. Did you know that? I had to have some snack mix, and the pretzels were soft.”

Charlotte laughed as she got down a platter for the turkey. Dawson picked up the carving knife without her saying anything, and she loved this dance they’d perfected.

Loved her parents for coming.

Loved her life again.

* * *

“The helicopter has landed,” the intercom on the phone in her office chirped. Charlotte made a grab for a stack of folders and had just dropped them over the planner where she’d been working as Dawson entered.

He paused, clearly aware that he’d interrupted something. “I thought we were going to lunch,” he said slowly, glancing around.

But he wouldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing about the wedding plans Charlotte had been working on for the past six months. No evidence of the dress she’d ordered. Or the flowers she’d arranged. Or the catering company she’d hired.

Now, if Dawson would ask her to marry him already, she wouldn't have to have a secret code with Riley and the front desk, or pretend like she was planning weddings for other brides.

But he hadn’t popped the question yet, and in fact, they’d barely talked about getting married.

“We are,” she said lightly, wondering if she should just ask him. She wasn’t getting any younger, and living in that huge house by herself was starting to suffocate her. She grabbed her purse and slipped her arm through Dawson’s when she met him near the door.

She gave Riley a thank you look as she passed, and Riley acknowledged it with a small smile. Once free of the building, Charlotte said, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.” Dawson clicked his key fob to unlock the doors on his SUV. Charlotte didn’t move around to the passenger side.

“This is serious, isn’t it?” she asked, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Of course.” He looked a bit baffled, like she’d just splashed ice water in his face.

“So we’re going to get married?”

He blinked. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’d like to get married.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because we haven’t talked about it much, and you wouldn’t marry that other woman, and it’s been six months, Dawson.” She wasn’t able to keep her frustration tamed, and it leaked into her voice.

The brutal July sun beat down on them as if to enunciate her point.

“I—I guess I wasn’t sure if you wanted to get married.” He looked genuinely confused. “And I’d like to know something else too.”

Charlotte hadn’t had any problems communicating with him since Christmas. “All right.”

“Can we get in the car?” he asked. “I’m melting out here.” He opened his door, and she went around to get in beside him. His air conditioner did bring some relief to the conversation, and she twisted toward him, straightening her skirt.

“All right,” she said. “What did you want to know?”

He searched her face as if the answer would be there and he wouldn’t have to ask. “Kids,” he finally blurted. “I want to know if you want kids.”

His words punched her in the lungs, and she gasped. She searched her memory, but she couldn’t remember any conversations about this. “I guess…I mean, I thought it was obvious.”

“What was?” he asked.

“I can’t have kids,” she said simply.

“You can’t? Why not?” He reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry. That was probably insensitive.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s just—Hunter and I never could get pregnant. For a year or two, I was pretty devastated, but….” She let her voice trail off, realizing she’d never wanted Hunter’s child.

But Dawson? The thought of having a son or daughter with him made her insides clench, and she realized that was something she really, desperately wanted.

“Did you ever find out why?” he asked.

“No.”

“Maybe it’s something that can be helped,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’d kind of like to have kids.”

She cocked her head at him, absorbing everything he’d said. “You don’t ‘kind of’ want kids, Dawson.”

“Fine,” he said, his eyes sparking with heat. “I really want kids. Your kids.” He leaned over and kissed her, one of those slow, sensual kisses that raised her core body temperature and made her heart flutter.

She broke the connection and said, “I’ve been planning our wedding for three months. All I need is a ring and a date.”

Dawson handled the news well, because all he did was chuckle. “Well, I think you probably already have a date in mind. But I guess I can help with the ring.” He reached over and opened the glove compartment, rooting around for a moment before withdrawing a black box.

“How long has that been in there?” she demanded, simultaneously wanting to rip it out of his hands or flee from the vehicle. Her heart thrashed around inside her chest, and her mouth felt so dry.

“A few months,” he said nonchalantly. He cracked the box to reveal a gorgeous round diamond atop a silver ring, with a twisted vine design going down both sides.

“It’s white gold,” he said. “If you hate it, we can go pick something out together.”

“Hate it?” Charlotte wasn’t sure if he’d just proposed or not. Tears filled her eyes as she lifted them to look into his. “I don’t hate it. I love it.”

He smiled and removed the ring from the box. “Charlotte, I’m madly in love with you. And while I didn’t plan to propose to you in my truck, you sort of gave me no other choice.”

A half-sob, half-laugh came out of her mouth, and she wiped her tears quickly.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

She nodded, needing an extra moment before she could say, “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He slid the diamond onto her left ring finger and kissed her. When they broke apart, she leaned her forehead against his, cherishing the moment even if it hadn’t gone according to plan. “Dawson?”

“Hmm?”

“I want kids.”

He opened his eyes and pulled back. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Your kids.”