“My family,” Mike whispers, kissing us each on the cheek. He then sets us both on our feet, and wipes away Sierra’s tears with his thumb. He keeps his arm locked around my waist as he bends closer to her, his fingertip on her cheek. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. I wanted you to hear what I said, not what my dad said. He’s wrong.”
“And nasty,” she agrees so readily that I try to hide my smile.
“I needed you to know that I would defend you,” he tells Sierra and she nods.
“I know, Dad.” She takes a deep breath. “It had to be that way for you to fix it.”
“Exactly.” He pulls her close and kisses her forehead. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him and he pulls me closer.
I only realize that Merrie is watching from the doorway when she clears her throat. “Come inside, all of you. Sierra, you can help me finish some crème brûlées for Una. She says she’s up for the hard sugar top.”
Sierra’s eyes light so predictably that I almost laugh. “You mean I can use the blow torch?”
“Blow torches, tractors, cars,” Mike grumbles. “Is there anything you don’t want to do?”
“Not so far,” she says, her tone pert again.
“Only under close supervision,” Merrie agrees with a smile. “Special circumstances.”
“But Mom and Dad can help, too.”
“No.” Merrie’s smile broadens as she surveys us. “I thinkthey have something else to do.” She beckons to Sierra, and as Sierra goes into the bistro with her, she winks at me. I’ll guess that Sierra looks back, but I know she’s in good hands.
I only see Mike, his eyes darkening, the corner of his mouth lifting in the beginning of a smile.
“Hey,” he murmurs and I wrap my arms around his neck with contentment.
“Hey,” I reply with a smile. I could stare into his eyes all night long. “Are you okay?”
“Better now. You?” His arms are around my waist, his hands on my back.
“Same.”
“So, about that proposal.”
“I don’t want to have dinner in Havelock,” I say. “And I don’t need you to drop to one knee.”
“No?”
“Always looks like begging to me.”
He smiles, hope in his eyes.
“I have a different proposal.” I touch my lips to his quickly. “Let’s go to the studio for a while. That chaise lounge is lonely.”
He catches his breath then looks down at me, his words husky. “Will you marry me, Sylvia?”
“Yes,” I say with conviction. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“You could think about it.”
“I have. Yes.”
I catch only a glimpse of his smile before his mouth closes over mine in a triumphant kiss. I kiss him back with everything I’ve got, pouring all the love and admiration into my touch, wanting him and no one else forever and ever – and needing him to know that it’s always been that way.
When you meet The One, you know it and you never forget, even if life gets in the way.
