Page 141 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

This is really happening.

Charlie is down on one knee at my feet, asking me if I’ll be his wife.

How can this be real?

Just a few weeks ago he’d blocked me from everything and I thought I’d lost him forever.

I’d think I was dreaming if I had ever had a dream based at an airport before.

But it’s real.

It’s really real.

My mind skips ahead of me and I see myself walking down the aisle in a white dress – probably a Danielle Frankel – into the arms of a man who loves me more than anything else in the world. Then the two of us are somewhere hot and exotic, maybe the Maldives, getting couple’s massages and staying in the honeymoon suite. Then a beautiful house, obviously in Chelsea still, near good schools.

Maybe we’ll get a dog.

Maybe we could get two dogs?

But, urgh, marriage.

Isn’t that going against everything I stand for? It’s one of the foundations of patriarchy, isn’t it? Literally invented so women become property. Ownership and obedience dressed up as romance.

That rock is really nice though.

‘You need to give him an answer, love,’ an older lady standing at my shoulder says.

Oh, right, yes. I suppose I do.

I look down at Charlie, patiently waiting for my answer. My Charlie. Who sees me exactly as I am. Who knows my darkness. Has seen my darkness. And still wants me. Still loves me. How could my answer be anything other than yes?

‘Yes,’ I say and a look of pure relief washes over Charlie’s face as the small crowd that has gathered around us erupts into cheers and whoops and cries of ‘congratulations’.

‘Thank God for that,’ he says, pulling himself up to standing as a man slaps him on the back. ‘You were quiet for so long I thought you were going to say no.’

I pull him into my arms. ‘As if,’ I say and he takes the ring out of the box and slides it on my finger. It’s so gorgeous I already can’t imagine my finger without it. I pull him towards me and rise up on my toes so I can kiss his mouth.

‘Sorry about the venue,’ he mutters. ‘I was obviously planning to do this somewhere else. Somewhere romantic.’

‘Shh,’ I say. ‘This is perfect.’

‘You’re perfect,’ he says and grips the back of my head as he kisses me deeply. The crowd around us whoops again and someone wolf-whistles.

‘Get a room,’ someone shouts and we break apart laughing.

‘That,’ says Charlie. ‘Sounds like a good idea. Ready to get out of here, Mrs Chambers?’

‘There’s no way I’m taking your name,’ I say.

‘I know,’ says Charlie. ‘I’m still going to call you that though.’

We walk, arm in arm, through the terminal towards the taxi rank, Charlie waving to the crowd like he’s a celebrity.

I’m engaged.

I’m fucking engaged.

76