Epilogue - Part Two

"Penelope, I love you. I never want to be without you. Will you marry me?"

Penny closed her eyes and pulled in a deep lungful of gravy-scented air, basking in the memory of his proposal - the look on his face in that moment when he said those words. Not his scared little boy face that night. He looked strong and certain, with his eyes burning into hers. She'd already forgotten some of the words he said to her, but that look on his face would stay with her forever. Some images could never be forgotten. They might get a little cloudy, faded around the edges. But not forgotten. Never forgotten. Written on her memory with indelible ink.

Penny touched the ring with her thumb, spinning it around her finger with a sigh. She'd been wearing it for two weeks now, but she still hadn't gotten used to the weight of the diamond on her hand. Sometimes she forgot that it was there for a moment, and then the light would hit it, and she'd catch the glint out of the corner of her eye - and it would send another little jolt of secret happiness piercing through her.

It still boggled her mind to think how much had changed in one short year. She remembered that night last spring, riding around on the New York City subway all night long in a borrowed sweatshirt and a tropical print bikini, because didn't have any other place to sleep. That night had been the low point, when she thought for sure that she'd screwed up her whole life beyond redemption.

And now here she was a year later, with the future all mapped out.

David acted like this party tonight was to celebrate her med school acceptance, but they both knew that was only half of the agenda. Tonight was their unofficial engagement party. All their friends were gathering to toast the headline that had run a few days ago on Page 6 of the New York Post:

David Powers, Wall Street's Most Eligible Bachelor, Permanently Off the Market

Penny heard the scrape of David's key in the lock now, and she ran a hand down the length of her hair to smooth it. A moment later, he stood beside her in the cramped kitchen, sniffing the air.

"Smells amazing in here, Penny."

"It's my mom's recipe," she replied. "Nothing fancy. Rosemary roasted chicken."

"That's chicken?" He pointed at the thick brown liquid simmering in the sauce pan before her, his forehead furrowing with concern. "I don't know how to tell you this, my love, but I think you may have melted it."

Penny let out a little snort. "Chicken's in the oven, boss. This is gravy." She held up a spoonful for him to taste. "It's almost done."

"Damn," he replied. "How come you never mentioned you could cook?"

She shrugged mysteriously. "I've got all sorts of skills-" and he finished her sentence along with her "-you know nothing about."

With that, she turned off the burner and covered the pan, turning to face him. He ran his eyes from her face on downward.

"What are you wearing?" he asked. "Is that my shirt?"

Penny glanced down, following his gaze. She realized that she had some gravy spots spattered on her, and she dabbed with a paper towel. "I just showered," she explained. "I didn't want to get myself all messy again."

He nodded. "So you covered up with my $400 Hugo Boss dress shirt. That makes perfect sense."

"I never liked this one," Penny replied, unable to control the corners of her mouth. "You shouldn't wear green. It makes you look sallow."

David inched toward her, and she took a half-step back, feeling the edge of the kitchen counter just behind her. "You know Penny, there's this thing people wear sometimes to protect their clothes when they're cooking. It's called an apron."

The counter jutted into the small of Penny's back. He rested his hands on either side of her, trapping her in place. "I'm not really an apron kind of girl." She stuck out her chin at him defiantly. "Just because I agreed to marry you, don't expect me to turn into some kind of apron-wearing haus frau."

"Who says I want a haus frau?" He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face upward. "I'm the one who told you to hire a caterer for tonight."

"Well, I wanted to cook dinner myself!"

"In my dress shirt." He let go of her chin and began fiddling with the top button. "You wanted to cook in my dress shirt."

"We don't even own an apron. Maybe when we register for the wedding-"

"Penny," he cut her off with a frown. "I think it's time we established some ground rules."

She groaned. "Oh great. Here we go."

His hand moved down to the second button now. "Rule number 32. Don't use my dress shirts for an apron."

The third button popped open. Penny glanced down at the deep V of bare skin that lay exposed. She'd thrown the shirt on after she stepped out of the shower earlier, intending to get dressed at the last minute before the guests arrived. "Does it count as an apron if I'm not wearing anything underneath?"

"Smart ass," David whispered.

His lips were at her throat by the time they heard the loud alarm of the cooking timer. Penny pushed against his chest to free herself, and turned toward the oven. She pulled out two large roasting pans and set them on the stovetop, smiling at the pair of chickens, perfect golden brown. "OK, Mr. Powers," she said over her shoulder as he peered at the contents of the pan. "How's this for a rule? You let me wear whatever I want, whenever I want, and maybe I'll give you a taste."

He smirked. "A taste of what? The chicken?"

"If that's what you're into."

"So basically the rule is: Penny doesn't have to follow any rules, or else David doesn't get any chicken?"

She pulled off a piece of crackling skin and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly. "Mmmmmmm, this is good," she said. "Do you prefer breast or thigh?"

He reached toward the pan himself, but she swatted down his hand. "How is that fair?" he asked.

"Rules are rules."

"Maybe I don't want any chicken."

"Suit yourself."

"I'm more of a red meat kind of guy. Maybe a nice rump roast?"

He stood behind her now, his hands edging upward beneath the hem of the shirt. She pretended to ignore him, draping a sheet of foil over the chicken to keep it warm. She still had the oven going, and she would pop the chicken back in for five more minutes before serving. She gave the gravy pot a final stir and covered it with the lid. Then, without further comment, Penny turned back around to face him. She finished unbuttoning the shirt and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it slide to her feet in a heap on the kitchen floor.

"I'm pretty sure you're going to want some chicken, David."

His eyes went wide, and his mouth fell slightly open, but he couldn't quite manage think of a comeback. She smiled with satisfaction as she stepped past him, heading for the bedroom door.

"Are you coming?" she asked over shoulder.

"Aren't the guests going to be here any sec?"

"We have half an hour," she answered, reaching back for his hand and dragging him behind her.

He caught up to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, clenching his forearm to stop her in place. She lost her footing and stumbled backward as his arm locked around her, but he was too close behind to let her fall. For a moment, she felt the full length of his body pressed against her. Her calves against his shins. Her thighs against his thighs. Her naked back against his chest.

She felt his breath, hot against her ear, and she gasped at the sensation. "I don't know, Penny. I'm not sure half an hour is going to be enough."

She turned in his arms to face him. "Let's live dangerously," she whispered, loosening his tie. "Trust me, David. Do you trust me?"

The tie came loose and she threw it aside. He reached behind her knees and swooped her up into his arms. "I do," he answered with a laugh as he carried her across the bedroom threshold. "God help me, Penny, but I do. I trust you with my life."

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Viv (@adam_and_jane)