AllFreeNovel
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“Pentela B, we’re coming up.”
“I didn’t think you’d be able to pull off an original proposal.” It doesn’t take long for her to challenge what I’ve given her.
Wait until we’re back on the Pentela, Amber-Rose.
The Angel Shark floats her way back up with mild throttle as her lovely passenger reaches out to my chest, rubbing the pleats of my shirt. “We’re only coming out of our first trimester—but you know, Rob, I already want another one.”
My gut feels giddy thinking about being overrun by kids and babies. “You know what? I want that too. We’ll make it happen.”
I kiss her as the Angel Shark splashes back onto the surface, just in time for us to catch a glimpse of the downing sunset.
“Rob….” She releases a gaping sigh as orange hues take over the ocean blue. “So you are taking me here to enjoy the sunset after all.”
“It’s a bonus,” I say as Rocky and my crew haul the sub back onto the Pentela. “Close your eyes,” I tell her, jumping out of the open hatch. No screwing around—I scoop her out of the vehicle.
Caught off guard, she screams in between her giggles. “Roobb!”
“Keep your eyes closed,” I say, carrying her into the cabin—into the main dining hall, to be precise. “Now, you can open them.”
She holds her breath as I put her down so she stands on her own. “Rob… this is…” She takes in a 360-degree view of the rose-decorated hall. Yellow—not red.
“Do you like it?”
“This is beyond amazing!” She takes slow steps, inspecting every corner, taking in the scent. “Are these the Henry Fondas?”
“Even better.” I pluck out a stem and let her feel it. “If you look closely, the petal shape is a bit different. They look like angel’s wings. A Californian farmer breeds this variety in white, and they call it Madison Rose. I ask him to create a yellow subvariety, and he let me coin the name—Amber-Rose.”
A hasty tug on my bowtie has me falling onto her, and without prelude, she pulls my lips into her mouth. And… is that her tongue I feel licking my cupid’s bow?
Whatever she’s doing, I let her.
Meanwhile, I wave my hand behind my back, and with perfect timing a band of two enters the hall. Clay and Matty, dressed in Switzerland folk costumes, sing their hearts out as Clay plays the guitar, serenading us with their own rendition of “That’s Amore.”
Amber-Rose bends down laughing while I hold her from behind, feeling uncontrollably merry myself.
After, we sit at the table, enjoying appetizers of chive crab cakes and salmon mousse cups—definitely not from ARTable, but from my friend, a five-Michelin-star French chef. Clay, watching Amber-Rose joking around with Matty on the other side of the table, says to me, “Are you going to announce the end of your bachelorhood to the press?”
“Of course. We’re official.”
“Robson Chase Hartley, bachelor no more. For real this time.”
I play-punch my brother’s shoulder. With Amber-Rose, everything is real.
“I think you two are having a girl,” he says. “She looks so radiant.”
“You still have a lot to learn about women,” I quip. I can’t believe I said that to my ladies’ man brother. “Every pregnant woman is radiant.”
“She looks different, though,” Clay insists. “Huh!” He shakes his head, eyes gloomy. “What do I know about women?”
“Hey, don’t sulk, brother,” I say. “You’ll find her.”
“It’s gonna be a long road, I can feel it.”
“Since when are you afraid of long journeys?”
He smirks. “Never.”
Obviously feeling our stares on her, Amber-Rose turns to us, her gaze asking about our conversation.
I raise my glass to her.
“Nowthisis fair!” Matty says. “Everybody is having orange juice.”
I reach out to her, and our fingertips meet in the middle of the table. Amber-Rose. A heart mender, a teacher of love, and a lifeboat capable of tugging an ocean liner. Her mouth silently says ‘I love you,’ and I wrap her hand with both of mine.
* * *
