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‘I couldn’t stay there. I had to see you. I needed you to know, as soon as I realised, that I am head over heels in love with you. And not in a way I’ve ever felt before. This is so different. I feel as though if I don’t spend the rest of my life with you, a part of me will die. I can’t explain it. You’re in my blood and my breath; you’re a part of me.’
And for the first time in days, I exhale slowly and I smile. I smile in a natural way because I feel the first flicker of true happiness. In a very, very long time.
He drops a hand and laces his fingers through mine.
‘I’m sorry I was so stupid.’
I laugh then, and shake my head. ‘You were stupid.’
‘Completely.’
‘But you’re done?’
‘Being stupid? I can’t promise that.’ He grins and my heart stitches together a bit. ‘But I will never hurt you again, Imogen. You are everything to me, and I plan on spending the rest of my life showing you that. If you’ll let me.’
Stars shift in my field of vision. ‘I...don’t...’ I frown, and lick my lower lip. ‘Are you...?’
‘Asking you to become Lady Rothsmore and all that entails? Yes. Though not very well, evidently.’
I don’t know what to say. I never thought I’d get married and not to someone with more money than Croesus, but here I am, head over heels in love with this man, and nothing matters beyond that. Not his title, his wealth, nothing. There is an imperative in me to agree to this—an imperative of my own making. My happiness is built on this conversation.
‘I know I hurt you,’ he says, mistaking my pause for doubt. ‘I know I screwed up, monumentally, by letting you think, even for a second, that we were ever just about sex. When you told me I could find someone else to fuck for my last week in America, my God, Imogen, I wish you could have seen inside me and know how that made me feel.’
I shake my head urgently. ‘Don’t.’ I lift a finger to his lips. ‘I don’t want to talk about that morning. We were both hurting.’ I smile at him then, a smile that I think is laced with all my hopes for our future. ‘There’s no sense discussing the past when our future is waiting.’
His face shifts as comprehension dawns. ‘Do you mean...is that a “yes”?’
I laugh and push up on my tiptoes so I can kiss my acceptance into his mouth. ‘It’s a hell yes.’
* * *
‘They can’t wait to meet you.’ His expression is slightly sardonic.
I stand up, walking across the lounge. ‘It’s mutual.’
‘I have, however, told them in no uncertain terms to cancel the booking for the wedding venue in June.’ His expression is laced with affectionate exasperation.
I grimace. ‘How did they take that?’
‘They’re thrilled to hear there is going to be a wedding of any kind.’ He pulls me into his arms, moving his hips a little, dancing in time to the New Year’s Eve broadcast that’s on in the background.
‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ I say, despite the fact we’ve spent the last week living like hermits in his penthouse, pretty much in bed the whole time, except when hunger called.
‘It’s happening.’ He pulls me closer. Fireworks dance just beneath my skin. ‘How do you feel about watching the fireworks from the hot tub?’
‘I think that would be pretty perfect.’
It’s perfect out—a bright night, filled with stars and light, too cold even for snow, but the hot tub is warm and luxurious. I sink into it, naked, sighing.
‘I do love this city,’ I say with a smile, catching his eye as he steps into the water.
‘We can stay here, you know.’
It’s about the hundredth time he’s made that offer.
I smile. ‘I know.’
‘I mean it, Imogen. I came back here fully expecting that if I was lucky enough for you to accept my proposal it would mean that we spent our life right here, in America.’
