Four months later, Erin stood on the pier at the marina and watched as ex-Sergeant Mick Smith maneuvered his skiff against the pilings. He tossed her a line and she wrapped it around the cleat.
"Thanks, sweetheart. I've got a dive lesson this afternoon," he said as he clunked two diving tanks on the pier.
Erin rubbed her swelling stomach and smiled. Mick caught the gesture.
"When's the wedding?"
"Excuse me?"
He winked. "Well, gal. Appears you're knocked up and I'm asking you, when's the wedding?"
Erin watched a sailboat tacking its way up the sound.
"I'll ask. I'll ask if you're invited, too."
Mick laughed and pulled tanks from the bow of his motor boat.
That night, as Spence stroked her belly and kissed it, she told him about Smith's comment.
"He said 'knocked up'?"
"Yes."
"Well, did you tell him that it's up to you?"
"No."
"When will you marry me?"
"As soon as you finish the manuscript."
Spence sighed. "How many pages do we have left?"
"Oh, I think we could wrap it up this week if you promise to focus."
"Baby, it's not my fault. You've been distracting me since we met."
THE END
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