“I cannot tell you how good it is to be here,” Papa replies. “I owe you a great debt, Max. A great debt indeed.”
“If the investigation had been done correctly in the first place…” Max begins.
“Let’s not rake over old stones, son. What’s done is done, and all we can do is move on,” Papa replies magnanimously.
There’s something magical about seeing the two men I love shaking hands and showing genuine care for one another. The way I feel about myfather will always be complicated, thanks to the decision he made all those years ago to leave. But he's still my father, and I love him. Having him here with Nona and Mr. Beckman and Max is beyond special for me.
After everyone has drunk tea, we join the kids around the fire, eating sausages and laughing and telling stories and making s’mores, just like we did that first time I was here. Max provides comfortable chairs for Nona and Mr. Beckman, who eat their food and then retire early, as the elderly often do.
“I have something to show you,” Max says softly as he snakes his hand around my waist.
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Where are you two off to?” Papa asks from his spot by the fire.
“I have something to show Val,” Max replies mysteriously. He leads me from the warmth of the fire around the back of the house, where the goats roam around a field, and I can hear the horses settling in for the night in the stables.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask as we begin to climb the hill.
“Somewhere special.”
“A ball pit?” I ask.
He squeezes my hand. “Best kiss ever.”
We make our way past a thicket of trees, and as we approach a white wooden pergola, my breath catches in my throat. Strung from the ceiling and down the columns are a host of fairy lights illuminating the space, with a red plaid picnic blanket and oversized cushions arranged on the floor, surrounded by candles.
“This is so romantic,” I say as we step up onto the pergola.
“Would you care to take a seat, mademoiselle,” Max asks with a glint in his eye, and as I settle onto the surprisingly comfortable picnic blanket, he places another blanket over us to keep us warm against the autumnal night air.
We lean back against the large cushions and look down the hill toward the house, the tents, and the fire in the distance. I snuggle against his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, holding me close.
“This is wonderful,” I say, taking in the view.
“I used to play on this pergola as a boy. Sofia would be the queen of the castle?—”
“Of course.”
“—and Amelia, Alex, and I would be her army, fighting off whatever enemy it was that day.”
“I fear for the future of our country,” I joke. “Thank you so much for inviting my family here. It means a lot to them, especially my papa.”
He places a kiss on the top of my head. “I know it does, but I've done it for purely selfish reasons.”
I turn to look up into his eyes, his face lit in the soft glow of the lights. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I had a rather important question to ask your nona and papa.”
My brows spring upwards, no clue what that question might be. “You did?”
He shifts his weight, and before I know what's happening, he bends a knee, popping open a small velvet box encasing a stunning Ledonian red ruby, flanked by diamonds.
My heart stutters as I look from the ring into Max’s eyes.
Does this mean…?
