We make our way out to the dance floor, the band mid-song. It's a slower one, and Edward pulls me against him with ease, tucking my body close to his. I love being in his arms, feeling his jaw graze my temple as he gently sways us to the music. His right palm rests on the small of my back before slipping a little lower but not indecently. My stomach flutters at the simple, loving touch.
The band transitions to a more upbeat song, but we stay just as we are.
"Your mom hinted that getting married in the church is a pretty big deal for your family," I murmur.
"It is." We sway in place, Edward keeping the rhythm slow. "That doesn't mean it's what I want, though."
"And what's that?"
"Whatever you want," he says easily.
"Do you really have a say?" I ask curiously, not accusingly.
I can hear the amusement in his tone. "A say with you?"
"No. Your family."
"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"
"Sometimes it seems like they have a lot of expectations for you." He's quiet, and I add, "Like with Tanya. Pushing you to pursue medicine instead of marketing. I know you moving back to Chicago had a lot to do with them, too."
"They just want what's best. That's not to say Tanya is best, by any means. They stopped trying to influence me years ago, when they realized it was no use," he says quietly, the hand around my waist holding me a little tighter. I shiver when his mouth brushes against my ear. "I might've moved back for them, but they're not the reason I stayed," he murmurs.
"I know," I whisper, leaning into him.
"I can't imagine my life without you, Bella, and I hope I never have to."
I shift to look up at him, melting when I see the sincerity in his eyes. "I have it on good authority that you'll never have to."
"Is that right?" He smirks, thumb grazing over my chin, lifting it a bit to kiss me. "What's got you thinking about all this, the church stuff and my family?" he asks carefully. "Where's your head at?"
"Honestly?"
"Of course."
I stare at his chest, feeling his gaze on me. "I feel like your mom was hinting that we'd be the next to get married. It got me thinking about our own wedding. Not to mention, all your teasing from this morning…"
When I look back up, mirth dances in his eyes. "I see. What are you thinking about for our wedding?"
"I don't know. I didn't grow up imagining stuff like that," I admit, shrugging. "I think I'd be fine with something small. Sometimes weddings can be overkill."
He laughs. "Bella Swan, the romantic."
"Seriously. I don't need a chocolate fountain or an overpriced cake or a photo booth and a sparkler exit. I just want you. I don't need all the hoopla."
His lips tug at the corner of his mouth. "I thought women loved the hoopla?"
"You're more important to me than all that unnecessary fuss."
He likes this answer, dipping his head to kiss me. "I don't need any of the extra shit either. Just you."
I lean my head on his chest. "Good."
The music fades, and then the band starts playing our song, Speechless by Dan & Shay. I pull back, staring up at the man who oozes romance. How did I get so fucking lucky?
"Did you do this?" I accuse, lips pressed together in a sincere smile.
He doesn't waver. "I have my ways."
The band plays their version of the song, and my resolve of not wanting to be proposed to in front of a crowd crumbles. Because this is so perfect. The way he's looking down at me, like I'm the best thing ever. And when they sing the line you already know that you're my weakness? It's so fucking true, for the both of us. He's got me so hooked, and it's clear I affect him the same way. He somehow turned me from someone who doesn't necessarily love being the center of attention to someone wanting him to drop to one knee and claim me as his own.
We fall into silence, and I lean my head against him, loving this little—potentially big—moment we're having.
"I love you so fucking much, Bella," he whispers against my ear, still swaying to the music.
"I love you, too," I reply, holding him a little tighter.
"Seriously, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, baby. I honestly didn't know it could be like this… feel like this. I'm just so incredibly lucky."
I pull back, searching his face.
"You're everything to me, too," I whisper.
He smiles at me adoringly. "Weddings make me sentimental."
I laugh a little. "Yeah, I guess they do. But I like it."
I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I'm hyper-aware of his every move, and when he slows our dancing to a stop, my stomach flips.
"Bella?"
"Yes?"
"I lied."
"About?"
"I didn't buy you a ring."
That is not what I expected him to say. "Oh."
"Are you upset?"
"I mean, no. I don't need a ring." I realize this is not a proposal, and my nerves fade a little. But then disappointment takes over where the nerves once were. Because I do want him to propose. I've been thinking about it all day, but the rational side of me knows there's still time. Just because it's not happening right now doesn't mean it won't happen in the future.
He smiles, cupping my face. "Here's the thing—"
"To be honest, I was a little nervous you were gonna propose to me in front of everyone tonight."
He pauses, like he wasn't expecting me to say that. It's his turn to say, "Oh."
"Just because I don't want a whole production doesn't mean I don't want to marry you. Because I do," I say assuredly. "More than anything."
"Okay." A look of confusion flashes across his face. "Good. I want that, too."
Our song ends and he just looks… a little deflated.
"Let's take a breather?" he asks, nodding toward the bar. With his hand in mine, he walks us off the dance floor, back over to the table.
Before we make it there, I stop in place, tugging on his hand. "Hey."
He loosens his bow tie with his other hand until it unravels and hangs around his neck. "Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
He stares at me for a moment, maybe working through something before his face brightens again, any trace of confusion completely gone. "Nothing's wrong." He kisses me, my cheeks, my forehead. "You want another drink?"
"Sure? Whiskey."
He whistles. "Girl after my own heart. I'll be back," he says, kissing my cheek before leaving me at the table.