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Those words released his tongue. “Yes!” he said quickly. “Oh God, yes! A thousand times yes! You’re not getting away from me now.” He rested both his hands on her perfectly curved shoulders. “When do you want to do it? Let’s do it now. You look lovely. I like this dress! It’s a great dress to get married in.”
She laughed as he drew her in for a kiss. She’s mine now, and nobody can take her from me. The applause around them was deafening. Darcy’s body was so light he could have floated away—taking Elizabeth with him into the clouds.
Elizabeth hugged him tightly and murmured in his ear, “I love you, and you’re mine now. Mine.”
He smiled at how similar their thoughts were.
In an instant, he understood Elizabeth’s strategy, why she had made her proposal public and in front of television news cameras. With such evidence of her initiative and heartfelt sincerity—and so many witnesses—nobody could credibly claim that Darcy had coerced her.
He rested his forehead against hers. “My darling. My beautiful, devious darling.”
“You don’t mind being ambushed?”
He laughed. “No. Although I am regretting the audience right now.”
“Oh?” Her eyes widened with anxiety.
“It makes it impossible for me to do what I really want to do,” he whispered suggestively in her ear.
She shivered. “Maybe doing it in public was a bad idea.”
“What the hell. You only get engaged once.” He grabbed her, swung her into a dip, and kissed her like the world was ending.
Epilogue
“You were right,” Will murmured in Elizabeth’s ear.
“I usually am.” She grinned at him. “About what specifically?”
“There’s nothing like a wedding to win the hearts of the American people.”
“I believe I said, ‘There’s nothing like a love story to win the hearts of the American people.’”
“I think the wedding may be the icing on the cake,” he said. “So to speak.”
She rolled her eyes; it was the third bad pun he had made that day.
As Elizabeth had hoped, their love story had captured the imaginations of the American public. Whispers that Will had coerced Elizabeth had all but disappeared when she proposed to him. Only a few fringe websites continued to flog that old narrative while the rest of the world got caught up in “Willizabeth Fever.” Their engagement and the tale of their romance were the top stories on every newspaper and cable news station for weeks. On-air pundits wondered if there was anyone in the U.S. who hadn’t seen the video of Elizabeth proposing.
And now here they were, greeting guests in what had to be the world’s longest receiving line. Elizabeth turned to greet the next: who was revealed to be Charlotte, with Bill Collins trailing behind her. Elizabeth gave her friend a hug.
“Congratulations!” Charlotte said. “I didn’t think you’d be able to pull off a Rose Garden wedding in two months, but everything is lovely.”
“It helps to have the White House staff behind you,” Elizabeth said. The staff could not have been more enthusiastic in embracing the idea of a Rose Garden wedding. They had transformed it into a beautiful day.
“And the American people,” Charlotte added.
“Yes.” Tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes when she remembered the support they’d received from Americans of all walks of life.
As soon as news of their engagement had been announced, everyone—including the media—had demanded to know when the wedding would take place. The answer had been as soon as possible. Elizabeth hadn’t felt comfortable moving into the president’s home with no official title, but Will had lived without her quite long enough, thank you very much.
The result was an engagement of little less than two months, which, along with Will’s renewed focus and enthusiasm, had greatly boosted the president’s popularity. Legislators who had opposed him suddenly ran the risk of appearing churlish. His renewable energy bill passed easily into law, and his refugee program was on its way to being implemented. The latter was particularly satisfying to Elizabeth, who planned to make immigrant and refugee children the focus of much of her charitable work as first lady.
“The staff certainly did you proud,” Charlotte observed, gazing down the aisle toward the flower-covered canopy where Will and Elizabeth had exchanged vows a few minutes earlier.
They had been blessed with one of D.C.’s rare warm, but not overly humid, June days. The Rose Garden had never looked more beautiful. The aisle was lined with elegant arrangements of white and purple roses, complementing the purple in the bridesmaids’ dresses.
“And Lydia even behaved herself,” Charlotte continued.
