A new chapter of my latest G/I epic...
May I Get What I Want and Not What I Deserve
Izzie's eyes opened, and just as she was turning her head to get a glimpse of the alarm clock, her nose filled with the hearty scents of breakfast foods. She rolled out of bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and straightened out her wrinkled PJs as she wandered down the hall to the kitchen to find her George bathed in the morning sun, dressed in his standard morning-off attire (a long-sleeved and well-worn T-shirt, rumpled blue jeans and those old running shoes that she was sure she'd thrown away at least twice), setting the kitchen table.
He didn't even look in her direction as he put down the last of the silverware with napkin-muffled clinks. “Just in time, honey,” he said, as if on cue. She took a long look at the table. Fresh flowers sat in the center, posed in one of her large vases , which last time she'd checked, was sitting dusty and dry and empty in the garage. Carafes of ice-cold orange juice and milk rested on either side. A bowl of fruit salad, and a pair of plates heaped with still-steaming scrambled eggs and bacon.
Her stomach rumbled audibly. If it tasted half as good...
“You okay?” George asked, breaking through her haze.
“You made this?” Izzie asked, still standing in the doorway.
“Yep,” George said. “Well, except for the flowers. Those I can't take credit for.” He pulled out a chair for her, and motioned for her to sit.
“We had bacon?” she wondered as she crossed the floor to him.
“No,” he replied. “And we were down to three eggs.”
“So not only did you cook breakfast, you went shopping?” Izzie shook her head. “For me?”
“And for me,” he said, mock-defensively. Then he smiled shyly. “But yes, mostly for you.”
A tinge of amazement leaked into her voice. “When did you wake up?”
George's eyes narrowed, a drowsy parody of thought. “Four. Or thereabouts.”
“You keeping intern hours again?” Izzie giggled.
“Actually, I didn't really sleep that much, what with you - you know - ”
“Telling you that I'm having your baby and then agreeing to marry you?”
“Yeah, those things,” he chuckled.
“The baby's non-negotiable, you know. And so's the wedding, handsome.”
“I know,” George replied. “That's not why I couldn't sleep.” He exhaled. “I want to propose again. In public.”
“Okay,” Izzie said. “You will be clothed, right?”
He pretended to frown. “I guess so.”
She giggled. “Oh, and hey - can we make it look like - nah.”
George smiled back at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said, popping a forkful of egg into her mouth.
“What?” he repeated. “Just tell me what you were thinking.”
Izzie swallowed the food, a mischievious smile crossing her lips. “I was thinking we could make it look like...like a huge surprise.” Her eyes sparkled as she giggled again. “You can make this ginormous thing out of it, you know, and I'll act all shocked and happy and we can watch everybody's faces. Give 'em a story to tell their grandkids.”
George laughed out loud. “I like it! They'll feel special!”
“Exactly,” Izzie said, taking a bite of bacon. “And if you still have that ring...”
George pulled a navy box from his pocket. “You know I do.”
Izzie smiled at the sight of it, and motioned for him to hand it to her.
He knelt next to her and pressed a kiss against her upturned cheek as he set the box on her palm. She smiled at him and opened it. The light caught the diamond chip and sparkled just a bit. “I'm glad you kept it,” she said softly.
“Me too,” George replied. His next words came out firmly, like he had practiced them and wanted to make sure they were clear. “Izzie, I want to marry you very soon,” he said.
Izzie's eyes narrowed. “How soon?”
George pursed his lips, then smiled. “Tuesday.”
Izzie wheeled at that. “This Tuesday?”
“Yeah,” George replied with an involuntary nod.
Izzie set her fork down. “Seriously?”
George leaned closer to her. “Seriously. Today's Wednesday. We do the blood test today, we get the results Friday morning at the latest. We apply for the certificate then, we'll have it by Monday afternoon. And then comes Tuesday. We can do it in the afternoon. I'll get one of my brothers to be a witness, and you can - ” His voice stopped when noticed a soft sadness in her eyes. “What?”
“Tuesday,” she near-whispered. “You want to marry me Tuesday, George?”
“Izzie, I've wanted to marry you every day for the last three years,” he said earnestly. “I just didn't have the opportunity.”
She looked into his eyes. “I love you, George, and I want to be your wife with my whole heart - but - I don't wanna marry you on Tuesday.”
He swallowed hard. “Why not?”
“Because, George - I don't want to just get married. I want a wedding,” Izzie said. “I want to be in a church, in front of our friends and family. I want to see you in a tuxedo, dressed to the nines. I want to wear a beautiful white gown that I'll pack away after the ceremony and never need or want to put on again. I want - I want the fairy tale, I guess. And I know I can't have all of it, but I'd like to get close.” She set the ring on the table, then pressed a kiss on to his cheek. “I want to be Mrs. George O'Malley, to have kids with you, grow old with you. And I want to start that right away. But...”
“But not starting Tuesday,” he said softly.
Izzie looked at him hopefully. “You understand? Please say you understand.”
George smiled sadly. “I guess.” He glanced at the clock above the kitchen sink. “Nuts. It's after 8 already.” He noticed Izzie's confused expression and said, “I promised Bailey I'd take over the Pit at 10, so...”
“You need to go,” Izzie said. “She's counting on you.”
“Yeah,” George replied. He lifted the ring off the table and stuffed it back into his pocket. “My Pit shift's gonna keep me from getting home until after midnight, so don't wait up.”
“Okay,” she said. He nodded at her and started away. As he was walking out, she called after him. “Tell me I didn't break your heart, George. Or ruin your plans. 'Cause if I did, you know I didn't mean to.”
He turned his head back to her. “I was thinking the same thing,” he replied.
Izzie sat alone at the table, food cooling in front of her, and waited for the sound of the front door opening and closing, all the while wondering if she should have just said yes.
To be continued...