His brow furrowed in thought.
Weirdo. Laughing under my breath, I stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. It’ll give you a reprieve from my ogling.”
“Aye,” he agreed a little vehemently. “You do that. You should do that.”
“Okaaaay. I will.” Thinking on it, Fyfe had been acting odd all evening. Fidgety. Like he was waiting for something to happen.
I’d just assumed he was eager for us to eat so we could get to the sex part of our belated anniversary activities.
When I returned from the bathroom, Fyfe didn’t look at me as he moved around the kitchen. “Desserts just coming.”
I nodded and sat back down at the table. I was mid sip of refreshed wine when Fyfe announced from the kitchen, “You know, I always pictured doing this somewhere exotic. With a scenic backdrop and some kind of romantic relevance.”
“Doing what?”
He grabbed a plate off the island, what I assumed was dessert, and moved slowly toward me as he continued, as if I hadn’t asked a question. “But then I thought I wanted to do this where you and I truly began. In this place …,” he said, setting the plate in front of me, “where you told me you loved me and where I realized I’d loved you for far longer than I’d ever admitted to myself.”
My heart hammered as I stared at what was on the plate.
Not dessert.
An open black velvet ring box with a solitaire diamond engagement ring nestled within it.
“Here is where I somehow fell more in love with you than I thought possible as I watched you fall in love with Millie. Here is where I knew that I would spend the rest of my life with you.”
I wrenched my gaze from the ring, eyes blurry with tears as I gaped up at my boyfriend. “Fyfe?”
His smile was slow and seductive as he reached over and plucked the ring from the box. Then he lowered to his knee in front of me and raised my left hand in his. “Eilidh FrancineAdair, will you do me the greatest honor of my life by becoming my wife?”
I didn’t need to think about it.
“Yes.” I nodded, tears spilling quick and fast down my cheeks. “Yes.”
Fyfe slipped the ring onto my finger and I barely had time to look at it before he scooped me into his arms, kissing me hard and hungrily, swinging me around as if I weighed nothing. We knocked off his glasses we kissed so hard.
He eventually lowered me but only to clasp my face in his hands and kiss me more reverently, gently, like I was the most precious thing in the world. “I love you so much,” he whispered gruffly against my lips. “I can’t wait until I can call you Mrs. Moray.”
I clung to him, my fingers curling in his shirt to pull him closer, deeper. “I love you.”
Fyfe released me to press his forehead to mine. “I’ve had that ring burning a hole in my pocket for six months.”
I reared back. “What? No way!”
He nodded. “I wanted it to be perfect, so I kept planning all these proposals and none of them felt right. Then I realized that it didn’t need to be some grand thing … and that I just wanted you to be mine.”
“This was perfect,” I promised him. “Fyfe, this is our home. It’s where our family lives. It’s perfect.” I wriggled my fingers, watching the diamond sparkle beautifully in the light. The ring was classic, elegant, no fuss or frills, and so me. “The ring is perfect too.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.” I beamed at him. “Millie will love it too. Her mumma and dada are getting married. She can be our flower girl.”
Cuddling me close, Fyfe brushed the hair off my face and asked, “Small or big wedding?”
“Small. By the loch on my uncle’s estate. He’ll close it off for a private event.”
“Sounds great. Can he do that next month?”
“What? Why?”
