“It’s not. It can’t always be that good.”
“You are right.”
She swallowed another lump of emotion.
“It will be better,” he said with absolute conviction. “I want no other woman but you. I have not since I kissed you the first time.”
“Is that true?”
“I do not make it a habit to lie.”
“Only when you are trying to protect yourself from betraying your honor,” she said in wonder.
“Yes. But it did not help and I will never do it again.”
“Good.”
“So we are in agreement?”
“Yes.”
They toasted their fully discussed deal with a glass of champagne.
He proposed that night, over a candlelight dinner in his apartment. Then he made love to her again, and he had been right. It was better.
Once again he made her go home—but told her to be ready to travel early the following morning.
Their flight on the Petronides jet was short. Her best friend from college was waiting at the airport.
She led Phoebe to one of the two limousines waiting on the tarmac. “No wonder you’ve been gaga over that guy for so long. He’s a total romantic.”
“What do you mean?” Phoebe asked with only partial attention as she noticed Spiros getting into the other car.
“Wait until you see.”
Her friend had not been overstating the case. Phoebe was taken to a castle in the hills of Southern Italy. The room she was led to could have belonged to royalty. And the wedding dress her friend helped her don was totally over-the-top gorgeous. By the time they made it down the grand staircase and to the beautiful chapel that smelled of roses and old wood Phoebe was in a state of shock. Her family was there, so was Spiros’s, but no one else except Phoebe’s friend was in attendance.
She stared at the priest, and then turned to Spiros. “You agreed to—”
He leaned down and kissed her. Right there, in front of all their family. When he lifted his head his eyes were suspiciously moist. “I agreed to a small wedding. But we will make vows we both mean—promises neither of us will break in this life.”
“But…”
“I love you, Phoebe. I always have. You thought I was angry with my brother because of family honor, but my fury was because his promise and subsequent agreement to the marriage plans kept me from you. I fought my love, I fought my need to beg him to give you up so I could have you. I lost on both counts. I was ready to do my begging the night of the betrothal dinner. Now that I have you, I will never let you go.”
Tears threatened her eyes, and her heart swelled to bursting. He meant every word. She could see it in his eyes. “Never?”
“Never.”
“I love you, Spiros. So much. I always have.”
“I know.”
She laughed through her happy tears, and then they said their vows.
Promises of love and commitment they both meant to the very depths of their souls.
Vows that would indeed last a lifetime.