Ugh, I've got no idea what this is. I suppose it's just my attempt to try and make sense of those engagement rumours, as much as I really don't want it to happen. I'm sorry...?
It's just an idea, stemmed from the actions of others and the warmth he causes in her heart.
Tony proposes to Liz. It's an apology, the pushing of his luck and the talk of the street. Michelle is understandably against the coupling, her excuses justified by the absence of Steve and the once fragile state Liz got herself into because of the very man she is now convinced can provide her with everlasting happiness. As Michelle rants by the bar, Carla keeps her thoughts to herself. She keeps all of her thoughts to herself.
A week later, she enters the factory to be met with the usual mill of gossip. Their working stops often, but their gobs never do. The girls have some good news to share with her for a change. They tell her that Fizz and Tyrone have decided to get married and yes, it is for Hope, but no, they do still love each other. They are still doing the right thing because they are doing it for love. For the love of their daughter, their love for each other.
And it gets Carla thinking.
Love. Love is the right thing, but she more than most knows only too well how quickly it can all go wrong. So wrong and so quickly and with so little left to cling to she feels she is floating midair with only herself to prevent her fall. But she does fall. Every time, and every time harder than the last.
Her head is full of doubts and ideas and thoughts. Thoughts she daren't tell anyone, least of everyone Nick. They keep her up at night, keep her awake by his side. It's a comfort to watch him sleep; oblivious to her, oblivious to the world. In her bed, in his bed, in the beds they share that are never truly theirs. Three months have passed in no time at all, and yet she finds it difficult to remember a time in the past year when he has not been by her side; a hand to a hold, a shoulder to cry on. The one constant in her life. Her rock as she has been his.
Her mind is working overtime and of course he notices. He notices everything, mostly the things she longs to hide from him, and she ought to hate it. She just doesn't have it in her heart to. She is making them their morning coffee, something she does most days now, and she is stirring the teaspoon around and around in one of their matching mugs when Nick walks into the kitchen, takes one look at how dazed she appears and frowns.
"Hey," he says softly, removing the spoon from her shaking hands. "You okay?"
His face is etched with concern. She manages a slight smile.
"Me? I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep."
He kisses her and tightly squeezes one of her hands. "Sorry," he says guiltily, which makes her laugh. "I'll see you for lunch, yeah?"
And then he is gone.
Her thoughts remain.
Lunchtime comes quickly, but at the same time - not quick enough. She sneaks into the bistro and sits where she knows Nick won't see her. She isn't quite sure what possesses her to do so, but his current appearance could not contrast more with the way he looked as he slept in her bed only hours earlier. Then, his face was relaxed; but now it is expressive, animated as he takes a couple's order. Under the dull lights of his workplace, Nick is in his element. He is smiling and busy and his suit pulls tight as he moves and she finds herself almost in awe of the way his eyes light up as they take her in, and he sits in the booth beside her, kisses her cheek in the most natural way that it causes her to hum with contentment.
"What are you doing sat here on your lonesome?" he asks.
She shrugs.
"Just watching you work," she says, and he pulls a face.
The couple Nick had just been serving look over to them and the woman smiles at Carla as if she knows something the other woman does not. There's a quiet happiness about her, a lightness to her hair that suggests it has recently been kissed by the sun and a diamond attached to her ring finger. An engagement ring she wears with pride; not too heavy, not too light. Not big. Not flashy. Just simple. Elegant.
There is a faraway look in Carla's eyes that Nick cannot even begin to read. She appears distant and thoughtful and does not realise that Nick has laced their fingers together until he gives hers a tight squeeze.
"I'll get the drinks," he says, without having to ask what the drink is going to be.
Carla feels unsettled as she watches him leave.
After a long day of wedding dress shopping with Kate, the last thing Carla feels like doing is working. Yet still she props her laptop up against her thighs, comfy clothes on and her phone switched off. She's been at it for an hour when Nick arrives home. Home. It is, but it isn't. Everything has began to feel so temporary to her recently, like all may be lost within the blink of an eye and she will be powerless to stop it. And it scares her. She feels unsteady now where she once felt safe.
Nick comes to stand behind the sofa, holding a bottle of wine he has obviously nabbed for them from the bistro in his right hand, and frowns as he reads the unfamiliar webpage she is on. She got distracted from work. She reaches a hand behind herself to touch his jacket, to pull at his lapel and pull him down to her level. Anchoring him to her.
"Hey," she says softly, kissing his cold cheek.
He returns the kiss and then rests his head on top of hers.
"What you reading?" he asks, as interested as he always is.
"Just..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She feels silly and stupid and more than a little bit sick. "Do you wanna know what the definition of marriage is?"
He freezes and she feels it. She carries on regardless.
"Marriage is the legally recognised union between two people as partners in a relationship," she reads from the screen in front of her. He doesn't respond. Carla is so glad she cannot see his face right now. "It is also the state of being married."
There is something of a long pause before she feels Nick relax again, his stance no longer stiff. He buries his nose into her hair and kisses it, drawing comfort from her. With his free hand, he touches her shoulder. But he cannot shake the randomness of what she has just said.
"Oh, I do wonder sometimes what goes on inside of that beautiful head of yours," he says softly.
He is dismissing her and she can feel him beginning to pull away; pull away from the words she is trying to find, but cannot. Panic builds in her chest.
"Would you ever get married again?"
Nick's chest tightens and when he speaks, his confusion is evident. "Depends. Why? Who's asking?"
Not even he can manage to make a joke out of this.
"Me," she says. And then she puts the laptop down and spins in her seat to study his face. He looks as shocked and as scared as she is. They are both shaking. His eyes are so intense that they make her want to cry. "I'm asking. I'm asking you."
He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. She reaches for his trembling hand.
Her voice is so small. "Would you ever marry me?"
Oh, how easily the bottle of wine he cradles could've tumbled to the ground in that moment. Nick very swiftly shakes himself out of the trance he had come to find himself in and moves to sit beside her, so close to her that she can feel his breath against her cheek and every shift of emotion in his face happens right before her eyes. His complete lack of speech as he makes sense of her words reminds her of the way she once described him to Michelle, before such a thing as a legal contract had ever entered her head. Or her heard. He is as honest as the day is long.
He is not hiding anything.
He has not let go of her hand, though this does little to slow her hammering heartbeat. His is no better.
"Hey," he says and she is staring at him, holding their joint hands close to her face. She is tearful. "What's brought all this on?"
"I don't know." And that isn't a lie. And then she begins to doubt herself. Begins to doubt him, them, this, everything. "This is the worst idea I've ever had, isn't it?"
She swallows past the lump in her throat.
"I didn't say that," Nick replies, but nor does he offer her anything else.
Instead, he leans in and kisses her forehead, an action that causes her to pull him into a tight hug. Her lips are to his skin and she is apologising over and over again for being so rash, for being so unlike herself, but he is not accepting any of her sorrys or her choked I love yous. I love you so much. But he's not declining any of them either.
Neither know how long they stay curled up on the sofa for, but eventually Nick untangles himself from her to pour the wine and they drink the entire bottle before he is able to provide her with an answer. It is the first word to leave his lips in over an hour and it is yes.