I sigh, leaning into his arm as I stare out at the world stretching below. Peaks upon peaks roll away from us into the sky, surrounding a calm, sapphire-blue lake that winks in the sun. The van we’ve been travelling in is somewhere down there, parked at the bottom of the endless switchback we’ve just climbed.
I can’t believe we’re here. New Zealand. Literally the furthest place in the world we could be from home. Sitting on a mountain together, under a spotless sky.
“Happy, love?” Angus asks into my silence.
Happy doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. Travelling with him makes everything easy. No matter what I’m freaking out about, there he is. His calm, unflappable presence eases the panicked beating of my heart. He’s patient with me, so fuckingpatient, that sometimes it makes me cry, and then he wipes away my tears with his thumbs, and I end up crying even more.
“I have never been happier,” I reply. “You finally started wearing some colour.”
Angus touches a finger to the hat I bought him in Christchurch. I started him on something easy – a nice olive green – although admittedly it does have a kiwi bird embroidered on the front and underneath it reads ‘The kiwi to my heart’, which Angus objected to strenuously until I kissed him into submission.
“This is as far as it goes,” he says.
“We’ll see.”
“London,” he growls.
It’s my turn to whisper into his ear, my voice low as I trace his collarbone through his shirt. “I like it when you get stern with me.”
He catches my hand and holds it in his. “Later.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I suppose we should get going.” I lever myself to my feet, glancing at the other side of the peak. “If we want to be back down in time for dinner.”
We’ve booked a fancy restaurant for tonight overlooking the lake. Our first splurge after weeks of living in the van and cooking our own meals. I want time to shower first. To change into something that isn’t spattered with dust. To have my way with him.
“Angus?”
When I turn back around, Angus isn’t where I expect him to be: sitting on the edge of the mountain, legs swinging in the air. Instead he’s on a single knee, cradling something small in both hands.
“Wh—”
“London,” he says slowly. “I have a question for you.”
“Oh my god.” The words come slow, then fast and all at once. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Is this real? Are you really doing this? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled. It’s a yes from me, a strong yes, but, fuck me, Angus, I really didn’t expect this. Not yet. Shit. Where did you even get the ring?” I catch myself, horror spreading through me. “Oh no. You are proposing, right? I mean… with the knee and the hands, I assumed, but maybe this is some weird Scottish thing? If so, forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to presume. Mad of me, really, to think you’d do it so soon…”
I trail off as Angus’ hands open, revealing what is most definitely a diamond ring in a small blue box balanced carefully in his palms.
“Are you done?”
I nod. “I’m done.”
“Rowan.” Angus takes a deep breath. “I love you. I am overwhelmingly, entirely, completely in love with you. You consume me, from the moment I wake up to the second I go to bed—”
“—I mean, that doesn’t sound entirely pleasant if I’m honest—”
“Love?”
“Yes?”
“Please shut up.”
I nod again. I can’t take my eyes off the ring.
“I’m not really one for big speeches, and you’re not really one for letting me finish them,” he continues, “so I’ll only say this. I love you, Rowan Turner. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Will you marry me?”
