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No more waiting. Right now.
Next to a big potted palm, I dropped to one knee.
“Mikhail,” she said urgently, dropping down beside me and taking me by the arm. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt in New York and not tell me?”
I started to laugh and kept going until my eyes watered. I loved her so damn much. “Are you already treating me like an old man?”
She stuck out her lip, making me want to kiss her senseless. “I’m treating you like the man I love. Get used to it.”
“I plan to,” I told her. “Now stand up; I’m trying to do something here.”
Her bright green eyes rivaled the trees all around us and widened as she sucked in a breath. Standing, she clasped her hands in front of herself, almost like she wanted me to stop what I was about to do.
“I can wait and do something more elaborate if you want,” I offered.
Still rendered speechless, she only shook her head. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the velvet jewelry box, and snapped it open to reveal the four-carat round solitaire. “It’s only moderately sized,” I said. “But I know you’re not showy.”
Her mouth dropped open. “It’s as big as a Glock bullet,” she said.
I laughed again. “That’s my girl. Evelina, I love you so much. It’s not because you’re beautiful, brave, intelligent, or all the other things I admire about you. It’s because you make me feel alive. You make me feel like I’m getting a second chance—no, a first chance at love since my first marriage was a bust. Oh, forget I said that. Jesus, Evelina, will you marry me and make my life complete?”
Feeling like I had fudged my speech beyond repair, I half expected her to turn and walk away without a word, but when our eyes met, her face broke into a big, sunny smile. She dropped back down with me and threw her arms around my neck, raining kisses on my cheeks. I held on and picked her up, turning my face until our mouths connected.
“Is that a yes?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she said, standing back and holding out her hand. “Put it on, please.”
I slid it on her finger and leaned down to kiss her again. Footsteps heading down the path made her jump away, and I swore under my breath. I hated that things weren’t absolutely perfect.
Oleg burst through the palm fronds hanging low over the path, heavy from morning dew. He wore running shorts and sneakers, a red sweatband around his nearly bald head.
“Morning, Papa,” Evelina said with forced cheer.
He gave me a dirty look before turning his gaze to his daughter. She tried to hide her hand behind her back but wasn’t quick enough.
“I saw it,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. I never would, but how I want to hit him for erasing the smile from her face.
“Papa, let’s talk about this,” she said.
“Not right now, Evelina.” He continued past us along the path.
She jumped to stand in front of him, holding out her arms, the desperation in her eyes breaking my heart. We’d been so happy ten seconds ago.
“Don’t run off,” she begged.
“I take a jog every morning,” he said, being purposely obtuse.
She straightened her spine and kept blocking the path. “When will you want to talk about it, then?”
His shoulders slumped at her beseeching tone, but he shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll be leaving for Moscow tonight. I hope you’ll come with me.”
“You know I won’t,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “But you don’t have to go yet, either. You can stay with Ivan or Yuri. Papa, please don’t make me choose.”
With a sigh, he put his hand on her shoulder and gently moved her off the path. “I will never make you choose, Evelina. I will always be your father, and you will always be my child. But I can’t accept this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I won’t tell you not to choose your own way. I’d rather die than see you unhappy.”
With that, he jogged off down the trail, never looking back. Evelina stared after him, then turned to me, her cheeks streaked with tears still leaking from her eyes. My heart ached for her pain, but I feared she’d call things off between us.
“Evelina,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
