Page 104 of Scotlander

‘You heard me,’ Finn said. ‘Jules read my tea leaves before she left and it looks like I’m going to make a very fretful future husband.’

‘Finn.’ She poked him in the chest with her finger. ‘I think I might’ve missed something.’

‘Eh?’

Oh, well now this was awkward. ‘The proposal?’

‘Oh!’ He pretended to be shocked. ‘So you want to be asked if you’d like to be my wedded bride, do you?’

‘Uhhh . . . Scottish man? Haggis lover!’

‘Just because you’re Scottish doesn’t automatically mean you love offal.’ He was properly laughing now.

‘You’re being awful.’ She was laughing too, but also a tiny bit panicked that she was completely misreading the situation.

She closed her eyes and pressed the heels of her hands to them, willing her brain to regroup and separate fact from the land of hopes and dreams.

When she opened them, Finn was flicking open a small box. She gasped as her eyes focused in on the ring. It was propped upon a whorl of evergreen velvet and was, quite simply, the most stunning piece of jewellery she’d ever seen. Tiny little trinity knots adorned the three bands of the ring that was inlaid with small but perfect emeralds.

When she failed to locate the power of speech to express just how bone-achingly happy she felt, Finn got panicky. ‘They had all sorts. Ones with standing stones and ones with trees of life and solitaires and then there were all of the different colours of gold—’

She silenced him with a kiss. ‘It’s perfect,’ she eventually whispered against his lips. ‘But . . .’

‘No buts . . .’ he whispered back. ‘You’ve already survived a fake marriage to me. And if it’s easier to think of this as a promise ring, let’s do that. If it works, we’ll start finding out today. If it doesn’t . . . at least we’ll know we tried. That’s better than wondering “what if”, isn’t it?’

She smiled and gave an invisible wink to The Rock, wherever he was.

Agreeing to marry at any point in a relationship was a risk. After one breathtaking night or fifteen years of gradually getting to know everything there was about one another. The former could last forever, the latter could end the next day. Things changed. People changed. But losing Valentina, Willa’s BFF and family all rolled into one for eight precious years, had taught her one very important lesson: life was too short to waste time with guessing games. It hurt. And there would be tears. And some days she probably wouldn’t like Finn very much, just as there would likely be days he wouldn’t be her greatest fan. But there would also be days like this one where it didn’t matter how awful the weather was because with him the world was made of sunshine.

Life had put her and Finn in one another’s paths. She didn’t know if she believed in destiny or fate or even the tarot card the Ancient Chinese Man had given her all those weeks ago back on Venice Beach. The star. A card indicating she was on the brink of leaving behind a dark, confusing time in her life and, if she was willing, about to step into a period of hope and faith. A moment in time when it would be truly possible to believe that dreams could really come true.

She laughed, looking out of the small window to the sky above where she knew Valentina was giving a triumphant fist pump. Gracias, mija, she silently thanked her friend. For everything.

‘C’mon now, lassie!’ Finn was pleading, hands in prayer position. ‘Please tell me what is happening in your brain!’

She grinned a happy, toothy smile. ‘Isn’t it hilarious that I thought all of my dreams would come true in Hollywood and that pretty much the opposite was true?’

‘Is this your version of a yes, please, Finlay, even though you’re not a movie star and smell like the back end of a goat, I’d like to marry you and love you until the end of time?’

‘Goat?’ she protested. ‘Cow, more like.’

They laughed and when their smiles grew soft and dreamy, she said, ‘Will you take a plain old yes, please?’

Finn looked her straight in the eye and in a tone one might think was more fitting for a rebuke he said, ‘There’s nothing plain about you, Willaford Jenkins. Not a single, solitary thing. I love you and if you’ll let me, I will do my very best to spend the rest of my life showing you just how special I think you are.’

At last, she let what was happening sink in. This man, this beautiful kind man, who had unzipped something in her that felt wild and courageous and still a bit unfamiliar to her, was hers to explore life with. Her partner. Her future.

She finally allowed herself to reach out and touch the ring. It was beautiful. He explained how the delicate knots symbolised interconnection with a loved one as well as the seamless flow from one life event to another. She’d never seen life like that until now. How everything you experienced mattered. The ups, the downs, the tartan. And she couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

Finn slid the ring on to her finger, then lowered his mouth to the back of her hand to give it a soft kiss.

When he looked up at her she told him she loved him. His blue eyes lit up as if she’d ignited actual flames in them. Or perhaps it was a reflection of what she felt burning bright in her heart. A hunger for the future they would share. And a heartfelt desire to begin it now.

‘Can we just circle back to something you said earlier?’ she asked.

‘Aye.’

‘Next time we go out there,’ she flicked her thumb towards the stables, ‘there won’t be bagpipes?’