Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [61]
“I-I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Mark, I know you- “
He held up a hand. “That’s all right, it’s just-the reason why I’m telling you all this is-well, I’ve been thinking about you a lot. And I felt guilty every time I did, because of Kath-but then I saw Davey lying there on the floor because he couldn’t let go of what happened to Voyager, and I-I don’t want to turn into that.”
“I don’t think there’s any danger of that.” She smiled. “I’ve seen you in the dining room.”
That got a chuckle out of him. “Yeah, good point. Still, I-I need to get on with my life, too, which is why I’m here right now. I was wondering if you were doing anything after work tonight.”
“Well, I had planned a whole night of moping around wondering when you were going to get up off your ass and ask me out, but that’s what I’ve been doing for the last few months, so it might be nice to do something different, yeah.”
Mark let out a bark of laughter. “Well, you could’ve just asked me.”
“Right, and then you would’ve gotten that aghast look and then you would’ve stammered for five minutes, and then you’d have thought you’d be betraying Kath, and then you’d hate me for bringing it up. I figured it would be better to wait until you were ready.”
Mark at once was amazed at her perspicacity and irritated at his own lack of same. “Well, then, it’s a date.”
Three months later, Mark was happier than he’d been in a very long time.
No, I know exactly how long it’s been-almost three years.
Carla was completely different from Kath, and their relationship had also been completely different. With Kath, it was a slow burn-they’d met at a conference, and had been close friends for years before they finally took it to the next level. But with Carla, it all happened at once. The months they’d been together had had an intensity, a passion, a joy like nothing he’d ever felt.
He loved everything about her: her smile, her cheekbones, the way she always wore big floppy hats when it was sunny, the way she always rubbed Molly on her tummy whenever she came to the house, the fact that she always put things back in exactly the same place all the time (Mark was more the type to just drop things where he happened to be standing when he was done using it), her habit of always drinking rose-hips iced tea, the way she always put her right index finger to her chin whenever she was thinking about something, the way her mouth formed a near-perfect O whenever he gave her something, the fact that she only still called him “Carla” whenever she wanted to get his attention, how wonderful she looked in shorts, the way she rolled her eyes whenever he asked a dumb question, and her habit of always sleeping curled up next to him.
They went to Betazed for a combination of work and pleasure. The annual Federation Botanical Association Conference was there that year, and they both attended (and both gave presentations and participated in panel discussions), then followed it up with a week’s vacation.
On their last day, they were having a picnic lunch in the park next to Lake Cataria. She asked him for another sandwich, and he smiled and reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a small black box.
“That,” she said, “isn’t a salami sandwich.”
“Your powers of observation remain intact, my love. No, this is not a salami sandwich. I think you’ll like this better.”
She took the box, opened it, and then her mouth formed that O when she saw the diamond ring.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. His heart soared.
Upon their return home, there were a dozen or so messages, but the one that caught Mark’s eye was from Gres, who was having another anniversary gathering shortly, this one back on DS9.
Mark