John had booked a room in a charming thatched B and B in Coneysthorpe, a village so picturesque it felt like a film set. The cottage was tucked down a winding lane, surrounded by rolling green hills. A garden full of lavender out front echoed with the steady chirp of crickets and the faint hum of moths. Inside, their bedroom was tucked in the eaves, and they both banged their heads on the low wooden beams. While she was unpacking, Chloe found a sapphire-blue cocktail dress in her bag.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“I hired us outfits, there’s a costume party tonight,” he said, holding up an immaculately pressed ivory dinner jacket.
“Well, don’t you think of everything,” she said. Her dress had a dropped waist and delicate beadwork that shimmered at the hem. She stepped into it carefully and caught her reflection in the vanity. She looked like she’d stepped out of the pages ofThe Great Gatsby.
“I love it. All it needs is a—” But she didn’t need to finish the sentence. John was already behind her in the mirror, handing her a long string of pearls.
“Give me some credit, won’t you?” he said, eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror. She reached a hand to press over his.
“Thank you,” she said, then, watching his expression closely, she asked, “What is this for, this weekend? I love it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not my birthday or anything. You don’t need to treat me all the time.”
He shrugged, buttoning his linen waistcoat. “I saw it advertised and I knew we had to go. Maybe you’ll be inspired to write something,Brideshead Revisited RevisitedorBrideshead Yet Again?” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her neck, his lips brushing the skin just below her ear.
“Marry me,” she said suddenly.
He froze. “What?”
“Marry me,” she said again, her tone more certain now. “I know it isn’t traditional for me to ask, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I love you, I want to do this with you forever, or for as long as we’ve got.” She blinked up at him adoringly. “Since I can remember, I had this feeling that I was born in the wrong era, out of step with time somehow, but when I found you again, I realized it wasn’t that—it was being without you. You were what was missing. And now I can’t imagine my life without you. I love the way you think, how you explore the world, that you notice everything, and that you would plan all this for me.”He was looking at her now with an expression she couldn’t read. “I was lost, John, and then there was you. And now I am found.”
John pressed a palm to his face, exhaling sharply, then shook his head with a sort of bewildered smile.
“What?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small navy velvet ring box. Chloe gasped, then covered her mouth with both hands, smudging the red lipstick she’d just applied.
“Great minds…,” he said, nestling his chin onto her shoulder. She turned around.
“Oh no, I ruined it, didn’t I?” she said, her eyes searching his face to try to gauge how disappointed he was.
“You didn’t ruin it,” he said gently. “But yes, I did sort of have a whole plan.”
“Let me see,” she said, jumping up and down. But he put the ring box back in his pocket and shot her a teasing look.
“Nope. You proposed. You have to getmea ring now.” He raised both eyebrows. “I’ll save this for someone else.”
“John,” she said, “give me my ring,” and now she laughed as he backed away, shaking his head.
“You’ll have to fight me for it,” he said, retreating toward the bed.
“Gladly,” she said, striding toward him, pushing him back onto the bed. He landed with a dramatic “oof,” and she hitched up her dress so she could straddle him, then reached for his pocket.
“Miss Fairway, this is most unladylike behavior,” he said in an austere voice, but he laughed as she wrestled with his pocket. Their eyes connected; her hands stopped, and their laughter muted, as the energy between them switched from playfightingto something hot and electric. He let out a low moan as she gently rocked her hips against him. He wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close, his lips finding hers, kissing her, deep and slow. The familiar fire between them ignited, and her stomach flipped as she melted into the feeling.
“Richard, don’t look,” she murmured to the dog, who was curled up on a faded armchair in the corner. Then she reached for the hem of her dress, pulled it up over her head, and tossed it in the dog’s direction.
John reached for her, his hands cupping her with reverent urgency, just as she slipped her fingers into his pocket. But he preempted her, expertly flipping her over, playfully pinning her hands down on the bed.
“You little thief,” he whispered into her ear, clocking she already had the ring box in her hand. The room filled with laughter again, and they rode that beautifully blurred line between lust and joy, Chloe’s favorite place to be.
“We’re going to be late for the ball,” he scolded, running his hand up her thigh.
“We can be quick,” she said, her voice catching.
“If you want the ring,” he said, voice almost a growl, “then let me ask you the damn question.”
She handed him the box and he opened it slowly. Inside was a delicate vintage gold band with five small diamonds arched across the top like stars.
