"Can't, sorry. I'm in a rush. Fenella is waiting to have dinner with me before her shift at the Hobbit."
Once in his room, he closed the door behind him to block the television noise and went straight to the nightstand, pulling open the bottom drawer. Inside, beneath the stack of journals, was the small velvet box.
Din sat on the edge of the bed and opened it, needing to reassure himself that it was as beautiful and unique as he remembered.
The brooch didn't disappoint. It lay nestled in faded blue velvet, the silver tarnished to a lovely antique patina that enhanced rather than diminished its beauty. The Celtic knot-work pattern was as intricate as he remembered, endless loops and whorls that drew the eye inward to the center stone. The amber caught the light from his bedside lamp, glowing like aged whiskey, which had been his thought when he'd first seen it in that Edinburgh shop window.
He'd bought it just a week after meeting Fenella, already so taken with her that he'd spent a small fortune on a gift he hadn't planned on and hadn't known when he would give. The piece had just called to him, and the moment he'd laid eyes on it, he'd known it should be Fenella's.
The elderly shopkeeper with knowing eyes had told him it was late Victorian, probably 1880s or 1890s. "A sweetheart's gift,"she'd said with a smile. "See the pattern? Eternal love, no beginning and no end."
He'd carried it through every move, every change, every lonely decade of wondering if she was even alive. There had been chances to give it away, other women who'd passed through his life, but something had always held him back.
Subconsciously, he must have kept it for Fenella even though it had made no sense.
Stubborn, irrational hope.
Din closed the box with a soft snap and put it on top of the nightstand. After changing into a pair of jeans and a casual black T-shirt, he slipped the box into his pocket.
As he stepped out and headed for the front door, Thomas called after him, "Say hello to Fenella for me."
"Will do," Din promised. "You should stop by the bar after the game. See her in action."
"I might do that." Thomas saluted him with the bottle of beer.
As Din jogged back to Shira's place, the box bouncing slightly in his pocket, his heart was racing, but not from exertion.
After fifty years, the moment was finally here.
Regrettably, it wouldn't happen over a candlelit dinner like he'd imagined, and the setting was far from perfect, but he felt the urge to do it now and not wait any longer.
Back at Shira's place, he found Fenella in the kitchen finishing the assembling of their sandwiches. She'd put music on, something jazzy and smooth that seemed to move through her as she worked, adding a subtle sway to her hips.
"Perfect timing," she said without turning around. "Coffee's ready, and I'm just finishing my culinary masterpieces."
"They look and smell amazing." He walked over to the coffee pot, needing something to do with his hands while his heart tried to return to a normal rhythm. "What did you put in them?"
"I'm not telling. It's a trade secret." She glanced over her shoulder with a grin. "Whatever I found in the fridge. Turkey, avocado, slices of tomatoes, arugula, and Dijon mustard."
"Sounds delicious." He poured two cups of coffee, adding cream to hers the way she liked it.
The domestic vibe of the moment struck him. He was standing in a kitchen with the woman he loved, preparing to share a meal before she went to work.
After decades of solitude, this felt almost miraculous.
"Here." She slid a plate across the counter to him. "Eat up."
He took a bite, the flavors barely registering. The box in his pocket felt enormous, obvious, as if it was glowing through the fabric of his jeans. How did people do this? How did they casually pull out jewelry between bites?
"Okay, what's wrong?" Fenella set down her sandwich, fixing him with those knowing eyes of hers that saw too much. "You've been weird since you got back. Weirder than usual, I mean. You're practically vibrating."
"Nothing's wrong."
"You are freaking me out." She frowned at him. "Spill. What's going on?"
He set down his coffee cup, decision made. This wasn't how he'd planned it, but then again, nothing with Fenella ever went according to plan. Their entire relationship had chaos written all over it.
Why should this be different?
