“What I mean to ask is if you’ll marry me, Phoebe Whittaker? You are my soulmate, in every way.”
“Yes, I really think I am,” she whispered. “And you are mine.”
“Then shall we make it official?”
“Oh, you betcha.” She grinned, looking down at her fingers as he slid the diamond solitaire onto one, then stood, folding her into an embrace.
Love wrapped around them, stronger for their trials, their faith and trust built on the journey they’d had to go through to get to this point. Theirs was indeed a love that would last for all time.
Early the following summer,they held an intimate sunset ceremony on the deck of the yacht, just their closest friends and family in attendance, and with a minimum of fuss and formality. Both had wanted their day to mark their love, and they’d achieved that. It was palpable in the air.
But after the guests had disembarked at Porto Mezi, and it was just Anastasios and Phoebe on board, Phoebe caught her groom in a reflective moment.
“Are you thinking about him?” She asked gently, nuzzling close to his side.
“Indirectly.” He angled his face to Phoebe’s, a thoughtful expression on his features. “Actually, I was thinking about Ophelia, and how strange it is that she wasn’t here.”
He shrugged. “Or perhaps it would have been strange. Certainly for mum. But she’s our sister, and at some point, we’re going to have to acknowledge that. You heard the grief in her voice, the rejection she’s lived with. Our father was wrong to exile her; it wasn’t fair to her, or us. But I’m perpetuating that by keeping her a secret.”
“Do you think your mum’s ready to learn about her?”
“No. But she may never be. So what option do we have?”
It was a question that was too thorny to answer in that one night, but one they knew they’d have to tackle. And they would, together, side by side, facing their life’s challenges as a true partnership, mutual strength derived from each other’s support, and love.
THE END