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“Nothing,” she smiled, shaking her head, trying to lose the feelings of envy that were brewing inside her. “You have the plane tickets?”
He patted his pocket. “Sure do,” he grinned, and kissed her cheek. At least she knew her friends would think he was super hot and thanked the heavens that she wasn’t attending the wedding of her best friend Alicia, all by herself.
They rode to the airport in silence, but when they didn’t go to the regular terminal entrance, she sat up.
“Driver, I think you missed the turn,” she said. Arsen put his hand on her leg and shook his head. They kept going.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, but she could see the sparkle in his eye. She hit him on the arm. “What are you doing, Arsen?”
He rubbed the spot in an exaggerated fashion. “Hey, you brute!” Then pulled her to him and kissed her hard. “It’s a surprise.”
“Aren’t we going to NYC?” she asked. The last thing she wanted was for a surprise to get in the way of their trip to the wedding.
“I guess I can tell you,” he grinned. “We’re taking Insurrection’s private plane. It was their final thank you for me.”
“Are you serious!” Rory almost hit him again, but stopped herself. “Oh my God!” She’d never been in a private plane before, and at least she could tell her New York friends that story.
“You bet!” The driver dropped them off at a small, private terminal, and they whizzed through the security detail. When they climbed up the stairs onto the plane, Arsen stopped her, told her to close her eyes, and then covered them with his hands for good measure.
When he said she could open her eyes, she was shocked. The cabin was beautiful, but more than that it was filled with endless red roses, and Arsen was kneeling in front of her. Tears filled her eyes.
“Rory. You saved me from a life I never wanted, by showing me what rock solid love really is. You’ve made me happier than I ever though
t I could be. You’re a goddess, you’re a woman, and you’re the sweetest girlfriend a man could ever have.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Rory couldn’t breathe. He opened the box, and it was the ring that she had secretly wanted him to get the whole time, but didn’t think she was worthy of. The cathedral pavé half carat platinum. “You shouldn’t have!” she choked out as she fell to her knees in front of him.
“You’re not going to hit me again are you,” Arsen grinned. She vigorously shook her head no. “Rory Loughlin, will you make me the happiest man in the world, and marry me?”
“I will! Yes, I will,” she said, as he slipped the ring on her finger. She collapsed against him. “Yes, yes yes yes, yes,” she said into his soft dark hair.
He laughed and kissed her wherever he could reach.
“Should we celebrate with champagne once we take off?”
She smiled big through her tears, and hugged him again. “Yes! Champagne, and the mile-high club.”
His eyes crinkled as he laughed. “I knew I was marrying the right girl!”
They buckled into their seats and as the plane took off, Arsen put his arm around her. As Rory drew a rose up to her face to inhale its scent, a pure happiness filled her being, and she couldn’t wait to begin the next chapter of their lives together.
And to tell her friends her fabulous engagement story.
KING - excerpt
Jordan
My head is reeling. I fish around in my purse for the keys to my parents’ place, but I don’t make contact with anything. Maybe it’s unlocked. Just as I reach for the door handle, the door pops open and I’m face to face with a man in a open-necked button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and suit pants. He’s stunning. The look on his face is surprised and receptive, his bright blue eyes bright, their crinkled edges softening his expression. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. He definitely looks gorgeous.
“Oh, hi,” he says. His voice rumbles softly.
I fumble a bit, rub my hand on the side of my black dress, and hold out my hand to shake his. I’m flustered. His touch feels like electricity. I try not to stare at the way his collar falls around his upper chest and collarbone, or how the fabric stretches across broad shoulders.
“You’re Jordan,” he says.
“Yes,” I manage to say. He opens the door wide and moves out the way.
“Jordan, honey, is that you?” I hear in my mother’s voice. It’s her “company” voice, modulated and mellifluous. “We weren’t expecting you for another hour.”
