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"You give them your time. It’s not like you write a check and forget about it. That means something." He takes my hand in his. I try to pull away, but he tightens his hold on me. "You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. I know how you’ve supported your friends when they’ve needed you, how you’ve given your best to each of your clients and helped them through situations which would have caused anyone else to lose their nerve. But not you, Zara. You face each challenge head on and come out on top. I’m proud of you."
The hot sensation behind my eyes intensifies. "I didn’t tell you I was pregnant."
"I knew."
My jaw drops, again. The number of times this man has taken me by surprise is almost as many times as I have tried to pull the rug out from under him…and failed. "You mean—?"
"You refused champagne the last two times. Also—"
"The bug in my mobile phone." I slump into the sofa. "Of course, you knew."
"I’m sorry I spoiled your surprise." He quirks his beautiful lips and a slow fire ignites low in my belly.
"I should be the one saying I’m sorry. I should have told you everything—about being pregnant, about Olly. All of it. It’s just" —I glance away, then back at him— "it was all too much for me to process. It was such a shock to find out I was pregnant.”
He rises to his feet, then sits down next to me. "You should have let me be there for you."
"I’ve been having morning sickness the last few weeks, so I had a strong suspicion I was pregnant. The test was merely a formality, but seeing that pink line—for the second time in my life—I’m afraid it brought back memories."
He wraps his arm about my shoulders and pulls me close. "I’m sorry you had to go through it alone."
I allow myself to relax against him, muscle by muscle. "I wanted to do it at my own pace. I kept putting off taking a pregnancy test, until I couldn’t put it off anymore. And when I saw the positive test this morning, I needed some time to get my head around it all. That’s why I knew I had to go to the school and spend time with some of my favorite people."
"The kids."
"The kids," I agree.
We sit quietly for a few more seconds, then I look up at him. "Guess I’m going to marry you after all, huh?"
"Do you want to marry me, Zara?"
"Do you want me to marry you, Hunter?"
He chuckles. "So damn stubborn, but I’m going to wear you down yet." He slides down onto his knee for the second time in our lives, then pulls a ring from his pocket. He holds out his palm, and I place my hand in his. He slips the ring onto my left ring finger. The yellow-gold stone in the center is surrounded by tiny diamonds. I tilt my palm and the light from the window picks up the golden sparks at the heart of the sapphire.
"Fire for my Fire."
"Hunter," I breathe. I’d expected a ring, but this…is beautiful. It’s unique, and very much the kind of ring I’d have chosen for myself.
"It’s an antique." He rubs his thumb over the shining, golden ball of fire on my finger. "It belonged to my grandmother. She was the one person in my life who truly loved me. She left it for me with instructions to give it to the woman of my dreams. The woman who’s my dream, my wish, my fantasy. The woman who’s everything I need. You’re my hope, my love, my beginning and my end. You’re everything I need. I love you more with every breath. You’re my reason for living. You give my life meaning. And I want to spend the rest of it giving you and our children" —he places his other palm on my belly— "everything you’ll need."
"Hunter." I swallow. There’s so much I want to say, but my brain cells seem unable to bridge the connections needed to form the words. "Hunter." Another tear slides down my cheek, and this time, he leans in and kisses it away.
"Marry me, Zara. Marry me, and I’ll stand beside you through the years. Although I’ll make mistakes, I’ll never break your heart. I promise to make you so happy that the only tears you cry will be happy ones. Marry me because I’d rather have one kiss from your lips, one touch of your fingers on mine, one brush of your hair on my skin, hear your heartbeat against mine, than spend any time away from you. Marry me—"
"Yes." I press my lips to his. "Yes."
49
Hunter
"Minister, have you and Zara set a date for the wedding?" The journalist asks.
We’re in the small conservatory attached to my townhouse in Primrose Hill. We agreed the best way forward was to hold a press conference to which we’d invite a select number of news people.
We drew up a list of those who we knew would be sympathetic to our cause, as well as those we knew would have tougher questions. It was Zara’s idea to do that. She also said it would be best to hold the press conference in a location that was personal. It would mellow the media and make them feel like they were our guests, rather than adversaries. I suggested the gazebo attached to my living room, and she agreed. I was delighted. It meant she’d be on my turf, in my house, even though she hasn’t yet agreed to move in with me. Something I’m working on. This, I’m sure, will give me a head start in convincing her.
I left it in her capable hands to manage the entire event. She’s still the Head of Communications for my campaign. In addition, she’s also my partner. After I proposed to her the second time, and she accepted, we ended up kissing and making out, right there in my office—again. The best use I’ve put my desk to in all the time I’ve had it.
