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She grinned into the darkness. “Yeah, okay, I will accept that answer.”
After a while, they came to a stop at the spot where they’d picnicked a year and a bit ago. A fire was laid but not lit. Matteo had clearly been here ahead of time—or sent minions. He produced a blanket from the sleigh, settled her on it, and got to work on the fire.
“I don’t suppose you brought a giant wheel of cheese?” she joked.
“No, but I did bring some snacks,” he said, magically producing a picnic basket.
“That’s our hill,” she said, pointing into the darkness. “Or it would be, if we could see it.”
“Our hill.” He chuckled. “Yes, so many wonderful memories from that hill.”
She swatted him. “I told you I was sorry about that. I was scared.”
“I know. I was scared, too, and I botched it.”
“We both botched it. But then we un-botched it.” And she was so glad they had.
“Then we un-botched it,” he agreed. “There’s nothing a pair of workaholics can’t figure out if they put their minds to it.” He got the fire going, and soon its cheery flames were throwing warmthand light onto their little party of two. He unpacked old-fashioned cast-iron sandwich makers. “These are preloaded with cheese sandwiches we can toast in the fire. Not raclette, but perhaps an acceptable substitute.” Next he produced a growler. “This is the last of Imogen’s fall pumpkin beer. I asked her before we came to make sure she saved some for us.”
Of course he had. “You think of every last thing, don’t you?”
“I can’t help it.”
“Once an equerry, always an equerry, I guess. You’re an equerry without a kingdom.”
“Would it be too cheesy for me to say you are my kingdom?”
“Way too cheesy.”
He winked. “Luckily I didn’t say it then.” He stuck the sandwich irons in the fire and poured their drinks, but instead of giving her one, he set both glasses aside and said to her, with a kind of strange intensity, “I have a very important question to ask you.” He reached for her hand.
“Oh no,” she blurted, totally ruining the mood. Butcrap. She wasn’t ready for this. She had no doubt this was where things were going, that someday she would marry him, but it had only been a year! She had only moved into his UN residence a month ago. She still hadn’t found a tenant for her half of the duplex she’d bought with her parents six months ago. She still got spooked sometimes when she thought too hard about how tidily everything had worked out—almost like shewasin one of those TV Christmas movies.
It was too soon! So much for Mr. Emotional Intelligence, thinking of everything, anticipating her every desire.
He squeezed her mittened hand and regarded her with suchopen adoration that she knew she was in trouble. “Are you ready?”
“I...” How did you tell someone not to propose to you?
“I love you, Cara Delaney, my corporate goth angel.”
“Your what?”
“This is the part where you say you love me, too.”
Oh,shit. “I do love you. So much. I never thought—”
“You know how it’s been such a grind lately, with all the Christmas ado?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Not to mention your new position. And my new position. Moving in together. It’s been an intense year. So with that in mind, I’d like to propose something bold.”
She braced herself.
“An idea for after the party in New York on the twenty-sixth,” he went on.
Oh my god! He wanted to get marriednow? Like the day after tomorrow? “Okay, listen. You know—”
“Just let me finish, will you?”
She could at least do that. She needed to take a breath and gather her thoughts anyway, to make sure this didn’t turn out like a year ago on that ski hill. She had to think of a way to say no without saying no.
