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Somewhere on the way from the restaurant to Bella’s house, they had lost something. He’d been feeling hopeful, but now everything was awkward and stilted again. “What about that pizza you promised?” he said, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.
She nodded, her attention on the stack of mail on the counter. “Of course. I’ll preheat the oven. Would you like a glass of wine while we wait?”
Bloody hell. This wasn’t at all how he wanted things to go. He rounded the small island with the copper sink and put his hand beneath her elbow, needing to touch her. “Can we go into the living room and talk for a few minutes? I have something I want to show you.”
“Whatever you like.” Bella was wearing her hostess persona. He hated it.
She led him to a small comfy room with a couch and a loveseat and a television mounted on the wall over an old-fashioned fireplace that had been converted to glass logs. With a flip of a switch, cheery red and gold flames danced and sparked.
A small Christmas tree sat in front of the window. Bella bent to plug in the lights and then chose to sit in the armchair near the fire.
Ian sat down as well, frowning and patting the sofa cushion beside him. “Come over here. Please.”
She was visibly wary, but she did as he asked. What did she think he was going to do? Pounce on her?
“The snow is getting deeper, Ian,” she said. “You should say what you came to say before it gets too bad for you to make it back to your hotel. I assume you’re out by the airport?”
“Yes.” Damn. Why was this so hard? He pulled his phone from his pocket and clicked on the photo icon. “This is my flat in London. It’s very nice actually. I have a view of the Thames.”
Bella leaned closer as he flipped quickly. “It’s lovely, Ian.” She scooted back to her end of the sofa.
“There’s more,” he said, grinding his jaw.
“Oh. Sorry.” She returned to her original spot.
He wanted to use the exact, perfect words. In the end, he simply told her the story. “Two months ago, I approached the couple whose flat occupies the other half of my floor. I offered them 50 percent more than the property was worth, and they accepted. Since then I’ve knocked out walls and remodeled the entire space. You can see the progress in these next several pictures.”
“Okay.”
The delicate scent of her perfume made him dizzy. This was the important part. He couldn’t afford to choke on the home stretch. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Bella?”
Blue eyes, darker than normal, stared up at him. Her gaze darted from the phone to his face and back again. “I don’t believe I do.”
Laying the phone aside, he took her hands in his. “I want you to have your own space, the perfect ambience for you to write your novel. I realize that you’ve completed your dissertation in the time we’ve been apart, and maybe you’ve even decided you really wanted to teach. That’s not a problem. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.” He kissed her nose. “Why do you look so confused? Do you not like the idea? You can be honest with me.”
Bella jumped to her feet and paced, her expression harried. “What idea, Ian? What are you saying?”
Well, hell. He’d made a mess of it after all. He took a small velvet box out of his pocket and went down on one knee at her feet. Flipping open the lid, he took a deep breath. “Arabella Margaret Craig. Will you marry me?”
Tears leaked down her cheeks. She didn’t even reach for the ring. Instead, she put her hands to her face. “Ian. You can’t be serious.”
His heart sank. “You fell in love with me once. Won’t you give me another chance? I won’t ever leave you again.”
She sat down on the rug as if her legs had turned to spaghetti. Leaning her head against his chest, she cried.
He put the ring box aside and wrapped his arms around her. “I adore you, Bella. You came into my life and turned everything I thought I knew upside down. These months apart have been a hellish, lonely desert. But I wanted to wait until I could prove that I had room in my life for you, for us. The truth is, though, without you I won’t have any kind of life at all.”
* * *
Bella didn’t want to cry anymore. The weeks of grief and heartache and questions caught up with her, though, and she couldn’t stop. The front of Ian’s shirt was wet through with her tears.
He held her tightly without speaking, resting his chin on top of her head and murmuring words of Gaelic that sounded much like the ones he had used the last time they made love.
Finally, her sobs dwindled to the occasional hiccup. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m not usually so emotional.”
Ian stroked her hair. “Cry all you want, lass. Your tears are knives in my heart, but I deserve them.”
She pulled back far enough to look at his ridiculously handsome face. “I love you, Ian. And for the record, I love you exactly the way you are. Redoing your flat is one thing, but you don’t need to change any of the quirks that make you you. I would never ask that. I fell for the man with the incredible brain and the terrible fashion sense and the delightful accent that makes it very hard to carry on a serious argument with you.”
