I begin to close the door again. “Jonas, I can’t.”
This time, he thwarts me by advancing his large frame to the edge of the threshold of the doorway. If I really wanted to shut that door, I’d have to slam it on his face.
“Can you at least try?” he begs.
OK. Here goes.“We’re at different stages, you and I, emotionally speaking.”
So lame!But I soldier on. “I’m in love with you. I can’t tell you when exactly that happened, or how. It’s like I stumbled and fell into this gurgling primordial soup.”
His lips curl up. “How poetic! You should write a romance.”
“Jokes aside, it’s all very new to me, and it’s scary, and I’m a lousy swimmer.”
“I’m there in that soup with you, Margot. All the way!”
“No, you’re not.” I look down and away. “It’s not that you don’t like me—you do, that’s pretty obvious—but you’re still on dry land.”
Overwhelmed once again, I gently close the door on him as he shuffles back.
“I love you,” he says from behind the door.
I reopen it.
“Margot Nolan, I love you,” he repeats loud enough for the entire household to hear. “Not only am I not on dry land, I’m neck-deep in soup and going down.”
A smile eases the tension I feel. “Don’t sink just yet!”
“I’ll drag it out, no worries.” He lifts his chin a degree. “Can I be straight with you, including the ugly part?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you, never been this sure.” His gaze bores into mine. “Here’s the part you’re going to hate. I’d like you to marry me and live here with Matteo and me, even if it ruins your acting career.” He holds his breath.
“I don’t hate that part.”
He gulps a lungful of air. “I know it’s too much and too soon, but since you already said no, I can as well be honest.”
“I prefer it that way.”
“If you marry me,” he continues, “you can expect fidelity and dedication and total support. But you’ll have to put up with my conservative views.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just swear off sexism?”
“I’m done with the theory of women, which was always a joke anyway. But my other ideas are unchanged.”
“As are mine.”
“If you marry me, it’ll be like joining a debate club.” A wolfish grin stretches across his face. “Also, you’ll have to put up with seeing Matteo and me a lot. You’ll be around my mother only when we’re at the castle, and she’ll treat you with respect.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’ll see to it, as will Celeste.” His shoulders roll back. “My mother can be a pain, but she loves her children. She’ll end up perceiving you as one.”
Seems unlikely.But then, he knows her better than I do. Besides, if I reject him to humor her, isn’t that even worse than his proposing marriage to spite her? This isourfuture. We should decide independently from what she wants.
Jonas carries on, “We’ll spend quite a bit of time in London and in Cannes at the studio. By the way, the studio needs a manager badly.”
“I won’t be your employee.”
