"Please will you marry my dad?" Her voice was little more than a whisper, and the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.
For the second time in that kitchen, he brought her hand to his lips. She thought she might burst into hysterics if she opened her mouth, but wasn't sure if it would be tears or laughter.
After what felt like a lifetime, his long rough hands released hers, lingering as their fingertips clung together. Patrick had closed his eyes, fixing the image of that moment in his mind, but now opened them. Shelagh flooded with warmth, transfixed and still unable to speak.
Something in her stomach, or maybe his eyes, tugged at her, made her tantalizingly aware of his proximity. If she wanted, she could touch the wool of his suit by barely flexing her fingers.
"So that's a yes, then?"
Shelagh nodded. Yes. Her mind was already racing ahead, thinking of dinners she'd cook him, outings with Timothy, birthdays, Christmases, shared cigarettes, more children… and the less gentlemanly acts that might lead to more children. She pushed the thought from her mind, though she found her hand was hovering in front of his chest. She cleared her throat.
"Yes. Er, Patrick?" She blushed, fixing her eyes on his. "Could I hug you? Is that proper?"
Patrick smiled. "I think people hug at this point, yes."
They moved toward one another slowly; she felt as if time had thickened, the air between them soft and hot and full of his smell of wool and disinfectant soap and Henleys. She rubbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him slightly closer, and traced her hands around to his waist. Resting her head on his chest, she could hear his heart beat, felt his hands at her back.
The sigh she let out was louder than she'd expected. Shelagh's eyes flickered open as she felt Patrick shake, his breath on her forehead irregular. She pulled away.
"I'm sorry, Shelagh," Patrick's hand trembled in hers, "I couldn't quite believe you were real until just then." He brought her hand to his mouth once again and smiled, laughter still dancing across his face, she saw, in small twitches of his eyes.
Shelagh snorted. Alarmed, she covered her face and Patrick burst into hearty laughter. Shelagh peeked through her fingers at him and could not help but let giggles escape through the gaps, too.
"I was so nervous you'd say no," Patrick sighed.
"To Timothy?" Shelagh grinned. "Never."
He drew her into him once more.
"But my yes goes for you, too," Shelagh murmured. "I'm glad people hug at this point. I think I might collapse if you let go."
"Of you?" Patrick looked down into her eyes. "Never."