“Marry me you will,” I repeat to myself.
“Whoops!” my littlest man announces. “I got the balloons mixed up.” He quickly swaps them around before instructing, “Try again, start here.”
“You will marry me,” I read a little more slowly. It shouldn’t be funny but it is.
“It sounds like Mum’s forcing him now,” Hugh mutters. Archie looks back at his brother suddenly crestfallen.
“It’s not what I meant.” The words fall quickly, his movements turning jerky and his gaze frantic. “I’m sorry, Uncle Van. You let me plan the surprise and I got it all wrong.” Tears teeter on his lids and turns as though ready to flee. At least until Niko wraps a strong arm around him.
“Nothing is wrong, Archie. I think it’s worked out perfectly. Instead of putting your mum on the spot, she can decide if she’d like to ask me.” He glances my way and I literally have nothing to say. My head is void of words though my chest is clogged with emotion. He didn’t have to plan to bring the boys. He didn’t have to make it believable for them, yet he’d done all that and more. And now to see him comforting my sensitive baby is too much to overcome.
“But it isn’t a question,” Archie worries.
“She doesn’t have to ask me. She already knows I want to marry her.”
“What if she doesn’t want to ask you?” Archie whispers, now shielding his mouth with his hand.
“We’ll go to plan B.” They both glance Hugh’s way who gives the kind of smile that would be at home on a Bond villain.
“I dread to think,” I murmur. My heart hammers in the brief silence as I stare down unseeing at the balloon in my hand. What should I do? What could I do, because beyond all this, beyond the idyllic setting and the pains Niko has gone to, I’m still in trouble? In trouble in more ways than one, if I’m honest with myself. Yes, I’m at risk of losing my liberty to a bunch of criminal thugs, but I’m also at risk of losing my heart to a man I promised myself I’d never love again. A man who, for whatever reason and for however long, wants me. A man whose quiet words and thoughtfulness have opened my heart once again.
“Uncle Van.” I swallow and lower my gaze at the teasing quirk of his right brow. “Van.” My stomach flutters nervously and my heart does a little jig. “Niko,” I amend softly.
“Don’t forget the balloons,” Archie prompts. We all hold them up and I point at each in turn.
“Will. You. Marry. Me.”
The man smiles sweetly then answers, “Of course I will.”
“Don’t forget the string.”
At Hugh’s happy words, I glance down and wrap it around my finger. Then I pull.
“Oh my goodness!”
35
Van
“I was going to ask if you’d prefer something else, perhaps a new ring.”
Isla turns her head at the sound of my voice, my lips landing on my cheek rather than her hairline. Her heels are on the seat of the chair, her knees are under her chin, and one cheek bears the tiniest pillow crease. She’d been staring at her outstretched hand before I’d spoken, gazing at her ring. The ring that yesterday had been in an aged Cartier box, tied at the end of Archie’s string. She seems embarrassed at being caught admiring it.
“No.” She lowers her feet to the floor, her half-tamed bun wobbling precariously as she shakes her head. Her answer feels like cool relief. There was a chance she’d pitch the ring back at me. Though perhaps not this one.
“It’s hot early today.” I push damp strands of hair from my face. A poor substitute for touching hers.
“Do you always run in the mornings?”
“It’s a good way to start the day.”
“So is meditation.”
“Is that how you like to start your day?” These days, I almost add though manage to bite back my surprise. It’s been some years since we last spent a whole night together. But we have a lifetime of that to look forward to. I know we do.
Isla snorts.
“I suppose some people meditate sitting on pillows and listening to tinkling bells. My mediation is the steady pound of my feet hitting the road as I go over my plans for the day.”
Her response is a cynical twist of her lips. “I’d prefer the pillows.”
As I lower myself into the chair next to hers, I can’t help but note how her eyes travel my outstretched legs. Higher and higher they slide, right to where my running shorts bunch at my crotch.
“I agree. There are more fun ways to exercise.” My cock pulses when, pink cheeked, she glances away. There’s something bittersweet about her reaction to me. Look, but don’t linger. Want but don’t admit. But that’s half the problem, isn’t it? She won’t allow herself to be truthful. Not much longer now. My ring on her finger, she’ll be spread out and bared beneath me. Mine unequivocally.