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Corran’s got me. Corran will always have me.
I’m sinking, overcome by the intensity of the sensations flooding my body.
“Marry me, Vic,” he breathes in my ear as starlight bursts across my vision.
* * *
“Do you normally ask women to marry you when you come?”
Corran smiles sheepishly. “No. Just you.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t like to think there were a line of other women out there, getting their hopes up.” The thought of him being with another woman twists at my gut. My joking smile is ever so slightly rictus.
He laughs and looks at the floor. “There’s no line,” he says, running his hand through his hair.
He does that when he’s nervous. It is cute.
“I meant it,” he says quietly, looking at the floor. “But if it’s too much, too soon, not what you want…”
“Corran…” I interrupt. He raises his eyes to mine. “Shhhh.”
I put my finger on his lips.
For once in my life, I’ve no idea how my precisely mapped out life is going to unfold. Medical school. The Army medical corps. I’ve no idea how I’ll make it work. How we’ll make it work. But one thing is for sure, we will make it work. Together.
I wrap my arms around his neck.
“My answer is yes.”
There is one thing I am absolutely sure of. This man is my forever.
MY HEART REMEMBERS
Present day
CHAPTER 5
Victoria
I drain the last dregs of tea from my cup and reach out to lift the little blue velvet box sitting in the middle of the table. I flip open the lid and pluck the ring from its blue satin cushion as I have done many times over the years.
As always, my brow crumples into a frown as I will some element of remembrance to flourish in my mind.
Nothing.
I sigh.
It remains ever the mystery to my resolutely unforthcoming brain.
It is an engagement ring, I am sure of it. But how did it come to take up residence in my knicker drawer? And why did I never feel comfortable to ask my parents about its provenance? I twist the simple platinum band in my fingers letting the light catch the sparkling diamond solitaire.
That’s got to be at least a carat.
I let my eyes rest for a moment on its shining brilliance, softening my focus to let the rainbow hued shards dance across my vision.
It can’t be mine. Surely, I’d remember being given something so beautiful. I’d remember someone who treasured me so deeply? The thought makes my heart ache for a split second. But then my rational brain kicks in, sending the emotions fleeing before its solid dependability. Of course, I’d remember. Ergo, this ring is not mine.
It must, as I have concluded on the many previous occasions I have pulled it from my drawer to look at it, be my grandmother’s.
