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‘Tomorrow...?’ She gaped at him. ‘Mateo, I’d have to give at least a term’s notice—’
‘That can be dealt with.’
‘My mother—’
‘Again, it can be dealt with.’
‘My flat...’
‘I can arrange for it to be sold or kept, as you wish.’
She’d worked hard to save for that flat. Prices in Cambridge had skyrocketed over the last decade and, even on a researcher’s salary, buying the flat had been a stretch. Rachel took a quick, steadying breath. ‘I don’t know. This is a lot quicker than I expected.’
‘I understand.’ Yet his tone was implacable. He understood, but he would not change the terms. And that, Rachel realised, was an attitude she would encounter and have to accept again and again if she said yes.
‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘Can I think about it for a little while, at least? A night, and I’ll tell you first thing in the morning?’
Mateo hesitated, and Rachel knew even that felt like too long to him. Then he gave a brief nod. ‘Very well. But if you do say yes, Rachel, I will have to put things in motion very quickly.’
‘I understand.’
He hesitated, then reached over and covered her hand with his own, his palm warm and large and comforting on hers. ‘I know this all seems quite overwhelming. There are so many different things to consider. But I do believe, Rachel, I believe completely, that we could have a very successful and happy marriage. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that absolutely.’
She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. Already she knew what her answer would be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RACHEL PEERED OUT of the window as the misty grey fog of an English autumn grew smaller below and the plane lifted into a bright azure sky. It was the day after Mateo’s proposal, and they were on the royal Kallyrian jet, for an overnight flight to Constanza.
Rachel’s head was still spinning from how quickly everything had happened. Mateo had escorted her home, kissed her cheek, and told her he would ring her at seven in the morning for her answer.
Back in her flat, with her mother parked in front of a television on highest volume and the burnt smell of her toastie still hanging in the air, Rachel had felt the smallness of her existence descend on her like a thick fog. When she’d opened a patronising email from Supercilious Simon, it had been the push she hadn’t even needed.
She was going to say yes. As crazy as it seemed, as risky as it might be, she believed in her heart that life was meant for living, not just existing, and without Mateo in it that was what hers had become. A matter of survival.
She spent a sleepless night trying to imagine her future and unable to come up with anything more than hazy, vague scenes out of a Grace Kelly film, or maybe The Princess Diaries. When her mobile buzzed next to her bed at seven o’clock precisely, her stomach whirled with nerves—but also excitement.
‘Mateo?’
‘Have you decided?’
She took a breath, let it fill her lungs. She felt as if she were leaping and twirling into outer space. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I say yes.’
Mateo had sprung instantly into action. He’d disconnected the call almost immediately, saying he would come over within the next half-hour to begin arrangements.
‘My mother...’ Rachel had begun, starting to panic. ‘She doesn’t do well with change...’
‘We will make her transition as smooth as possible,’ Mateo promised her, and it had been. He’d left her mother speechless and simpering under the full wattage of his charm, and that very afternoon the three of them had toured the high-end nursing home on the outskirts of Cambridge that had a private facility for memory-impaired residents.
Carol had seemed remarkably pleased with it all—the private room was far larger and more luxurious than the one she currently had, and the nursing home had a full schedule of activities. And when Rachel had explained she would be moving away, her mother hadn’t been bothered in the least. Not, Rachel acknowledged with a sigh, that that had been much of a surprise.
Still, it all seemed so incredibly, head-spinningly fast. Her mother
was already settled in the nursing home; Rachel and Mateo had moved her over that very evening. A lump had formed in Rachel’s throat as she’d hugged her mother goodbye. Who knew when or if she’d see her again? Yet her mother had barely seemed aware of her departure; she’d turned away quickly, intent on investigating the lounge area with its large flat-screen TV. As she’d watched her mother shuffle away, it had seemed hard to believe that she’d once been the sophisticated and erudite wife of a prominent academic.
‘Bye, Mum,’ she’d whispered, and then she’d walked away without looking back.
Back at her flat, Rachel had packed her things up in a single suitcase, since Mateo had assured her she would not need anything once she was in Kallyria; all would be provided. He advised only to take keepsakes and mementoes, of which she had very few.
