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“We can change it.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the backs of my fingers next to the ring.
“No. I want the one you picked. That’s what makes it special.”
I slip my arms around his neck again and lose myself in his warm, sweet smell for a few seconds before springing back.
“Oh, but we can’t get married just yet, because next year there’s?—”
He places a finger on my lips and smiles at me with the deep affection of someone who truly knows someone else. “Always with the planning.”
Then he pulls me into another one of those deep, slow kisses.
“We have something to tell you,” Elliot calls to his mom and dad as we take off our shoes inside the French doors to the kitchen.
Maggie rushes over from the sink, drying her hands. “Yes, I have something to tell you too. Totally forgot earlier. Let me go first before I forget again.”
She’s so adorable.
Elliot takes my coat and hangs it on the back of a dining chair next to his. I give him an affectionate smile and nod to let her go first.
“Okay, ours isn’t anything earth-shattering.” He gives me a subtle wink as he rests his elbow on my shoulder, semi-leaning on me.
I shove my hands into my jeans pockets to hide the dazzling sparkler on my finger.
“Do you remember Hannah Hepburn?” Maggie asks, gesturing for us to get off the doormat and come in and sit down.
Elliot furrows his brow and heads for a stool at the kitchen island. “The name’s vaguely familiar. But I can’t quite place it.”
“Sure you can,” she says.
“I’ll give you a clue,” Jim calls over the top of the winemaking magazine he’s reading in an armchair next to the fire at the other end of the room.
“That’s no fun,” Maggie says. “See if Elliot can figure it out.”
I lean on the back of Elliot’s stool. He shoots me a glance, obviously bursting to tell them our news. “I’m going to take Dad’s clue, or we’ll be here all day.”
“Tom’s high school girlfriend,” Jim says.
“Jim!” Maggie puts her hands on her hips in mock outrage. “That’s not a clue. That’s the answer. You’ve spoiled it.”
“Oh, yeah.” The realization dawns on Elliot’s face. “I do remember her. I mean, I was only thirteen when you sent Tom to England, but?—”
“I do hate the way you boys always say we sent him,” she says, picking up the kettle from the stove and filling it from the faucet. “It was only supposed to be for the summer, to give him a change of scenery to get himself together. We never imagined he’d want to stay forever.”
“Anyway, yes. I remember,” Elliot says, trying to hurry it up. “Blond girl. Smart. Wore a lot of short denim skirts.”
I laugh. “Someone you haven’t seen for fifteen years and barely remember, but you do recall the short denim skirts.”
“I was a thirteen-year-old boy. Be surprised I remember the color of her hair and that she was smart.”
He slips his arm around my waist and pulls me to his side. “Anyway, Mom. What about her?”
Maggie puts the full kettle on the stove and turns on the burner. “Couldn’t believe it. Bumped into her in the village the other day.”
“In Blythewell?” Elliot asks. “What are the chances of there being other people from Boston here, never mind from the same high school as us?”
“Exactly what I said.” Maggie pulls four mugs from a cabinet. “I was in the plant shop asking Jude for advice on what sort of greenhouse to get.” She looks at us over her shoulder. “I’m getting a greenhouse in the spring.”
“Great,” Elliot says. “Tell us about Hannah, though.” He drops his voice to a whisper only I can hear. “Quickly.”
