𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XLVII

May 6, 1978

"You're joking."

To my dismay, he's not. Roger is still in full serious mode, now studying me with a stern look. "Does it look like I'd joke about this?"

I give a humorless laugh, but he doesn't return it. Instead, he retracts his arm that was once around my shoulders, his glare deepening. "Come on. You really want to have a wedding, right now? Let me know when you have a weekend free, and we'll pop over to the church."

"Church?" he repeats, wrinkling his nose. "No, it'll be a proper ceremony, when we have time off. So that was a yes, then?"

I stare at him. "You're really springing a lot on me tonight."

"I can't believe you don't wanna marry me!"

"That's not what I said," I say carefully. "I can't believe you'd ask me this tonight. Yesterday we were just friends, now you want us to be legally bound to each other?"

Roger scoffs. "Yes. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Let me ask you a better question. What's the rush?"

He finally seems to hear me- he falls silent, reaching for one of my hands. I watch him observe it, playing close attention to my ring finger, until he finally closes his fingers around it as if to imitate a ring. He smiles gently. "I'm just sick of waiting."

I feel a pang in my stomach. "That's my right hand, you know."

Scowling, he lets go.

"I'm sorry." I press my hand against his cheek until his scowl disappears. "But Rog, we have plenty of time to get married. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

He pulls me into him, trapping me in his arms. "I'll hold you to it."

We finally let go of that topic, and he starts to kiss me, holding my chin in a way that I like. It's only when my breath becomes shallow that he pulls away, grinning. "You're going to marry me eventually, then?"

-

He leaves early in the morning, caressing me gently across the cheek as a goodbye. Although he tries to leave the house quietly, it doesn't work. I stretch out across the spot where he'd been, trying to fall back asleep, but his words from the night before start to run through my mind.

I never pegged him as the type to want marriage so badly- I figured a relationship in itself was a lot to ask from him. I thought it would be years away until we even considered it. Now, with my head buried in the pillow that still smells like him, I let myself think about it. It really isn't a horrible idea. I can't picture us doing it so traditional, but maybe a small one wouldn't be bad.

God, I can't believe I might be getting married.

I finally give up on trying to sleep, pulling myself from the bed and getting ready. I spend my morning running a few errands, then finally getting Audrey from my mother's house, where I spend another chunk of my afternoon explaining to her when she'll get to see Roger.

"He'll be here in a little bit, but he can't stay for very long," I tell her again while she's having lunch. "He has a show tonight, remember?"

"Can I come with him?"

"I don't think so, love. You'll be sleeping before it starts."

"I'll stay awake!"

A conversation along these lines continues until we hear his car pull up, and Audrey runs into her bedroom for the toy she's been wanting to show him.