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Imogen
I stare down at Khristian on bended knee on the ice-skating rink.
I never imagined I’d be skating around at Rockefeller Center, especially on Orthodox Christmas eve, or that Khristian would be with me. He hates this kind of thing. I know he only bought tickets because it’s been a dream of mine, but I never expected him to put skates on… and now he’s on one knee holding a ring in his hand as I stare down at him in shock.
I had no idea this was coming. We’ve been together almost seven months now, and we’ve not spent a day apart.
Tears roll down my cheeks as he looks up at me and says, “Imogen, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
I brush my tears away as I fall to my knees, peppering his face with kisses, almost knocking him over. He laughs as I gasp at the ring. It’s huge. Of course, Mr. Petrov does nothing by halves.
“Yes!” I squeal. “Oh my god, Khristian!”
He smiles, taking the ring from the box and sliding it onto my finger.
It’s a princess cut, huge pink diamond with a white-gold band. It is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen, and I know how hard pink diamonds are to come by.
“Do you like it?”
“Khristian, I love it. It’s perfect.” I fold into his arms and we kiss.
More tears fall as I pull back, holding my hand out to admire my pink rock. Some people around us begin to clap and Sascha skates up. “I told you she’d say yes!”
Khristian beams, turning toward the railing, he gives his parents a thumbs up.
“You’re going to have such pretty babies,” Sascha sing-songs, skating backward as she twirls.
My heart races. “This is so unexpected,” I tell him. “You’re sure you want to marry me?”
He stands, pulling me with him as we embrace. “Do you really think I would ask if I didn’t want to?”
I close my eyes, breathing him in. “We’ve only been dating for seven months.”
“Yes, but we both love each other. I know this is right. I feel it deep in here.” He places one hand over his heart. “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “And I do want to have your pretty babies someday.”
This isn’t such a sore subject anymore. We’ve talked it over and one day, we’d love to have kids. I know that Khristian will be the type of man who will be overbearing and protective of me while I’m carrying his child, but that’s to be expected after what he’s been through.
I want nothing more than to give him a child, when the time is right.
I know I can never replace Nina, or Oliver, and I wouldn’t want to. He has pictures of her in the house that I encouraged. I don’t feel one bit jealous over her. He loved her. He loves so deeply and I know that she must have been such a special woman to earn his trust and his heart. She was taken away from him, and I don’t ever want him to think he can’t talk about her or their baby. It’s been healing for him.
“In the meantime, we need much more practice.” He smiles.
“Oh, we do. I think practice makes perfect.”
“That doesn’t include skating — I’m out.”
“But you only went around once!” I scold.
“Once is enough. I was born with two left feet, so I’m not what you’d call co-ordinated on an ice rink.”
“I’ve seen you on the dance floor and you definitely don’t have two left feet.”
“That’s because I had my hand down your dress.” He smirks.
I swing my arms around his neck as he wobbles. “One more kiss?”
