Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Just Fred.
My best friend. My protector. My safe space. My shoulder to cry on.
Now, two more titles would be added to that list.
My fiancée.
And then my husband.
Would those things that captivated others begin to do the same to me at some point?
What if they did? What if the feelings I had now for him—this rich, platonic love—became something else?
Then what would we do?
“What are you thinking about now?” he asked as we stepped outside into the gardens.
“Ah.” I flinched, forcibly dragged out of those dangerous, dangerous thoughts. “Just… About how things will change,” I said truthfully, gazing out around the garden. “How our friendship might change.”
“Mm,” he replied gruffly. “Can’t say I haven’t thought the same thing.”
“Really?” I glanced at him. “Fred, what if…” I trailed off.
No. I couldn’t ask him. If he made a joke about me falling in love or said nothing would change, then I didn’t know what I’d do or say. Despite all the times we’d joked about that before, now wasn’t the time.
This was real.
A real fear.
That one of us could end up hurt.
That we could end up losing each other.
“What if, what?”
“What if Granny was right? What if we can never, ever return to this point in our relationship right here?”
He stopped, pulling me to stillness beside him. He stepped in front of me and looked down, smiling. To anyone else, it would be a reassuring smile, one that would wash away all your worries.
To me, it was a mask.
It was only there to hide his real emotions—the vortex of uncertainty and fear that was hiding deep within his gaze.
“Then we figure it out.”
His low voice was raw, filled with an honesty that tugged at my soul. No jokes, no placations, no lies; just his truest, realest self.
“However long it takes, whatever happens… Deli, we’ll figure it out, I promise.” He hesitated for a moment, then laid his hand against my cheek. “We always have, haven’t we?”
“But this is different.”
“Yeah, of course this is. What we’re doing isn’t a joke, but we’ve thought this through. We’ve listened to others. We’ve heeded their warnings. We’re both all too aware of what could happen from this point on, no matter how much we joke otherwise.” A half-smile stretched his lips up on one side, revealing his dimple. “That’s why I said we’ll figure it out. One way or another, everything will be fine. We won’t lose each other.”
I swallowed. “Do you promise?”
He pressed our clasped hands over his heart. “I promise.”
I held up my free pinkie.
With a laugh, he hooked his pinkie around mine. “Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.”
I held his gaze for a moment, then nodded sternly and unlinked our little fingers. “All right. Don’t break it, or I will find the needles.”
“Noted.” He grinned, lowering our hands from his chest. “Come on. Let’s do this.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, let’s do this.”
He guided me into one of the smaller sections of the garden, a place that was Granny’s favourite little nook. It was surrounded by hydrangeas, and they were in full bloom around us. The dome bandstand pavilion in the middle where she loved to take her tea was illuminated by fairy lights, and the wrought iron tea table she usually sat at was pushed to the side and covered in flowers.
And there, in front of all the bushes, stood our families.
Together.
Our grandmothers in the middle, clasping hands, as the others all huddled in excitedly around them. Parents one side, siblings the other.
Fred looked back at me with a knowing smile and pulled me towards the pavilion until we were standing in the middle of it. “How’d I do?”
Perfect.
Everything I’d ever dreamed a proposal would be was all around me.
Damn him.
“Depends on what you do next.” I raised my eyebrows teasingly, and he laughed, reaching into his trouser pocket.
An old, green velvet box emerged in his hand, and he lowered himself to one knee in front of me.
Despite everything, my heart skipped.
“Fred…” I muttered, trying to look away.
“Eyes on me, Deli.”
I turned my attention back to him. He slowly opened the box, and the ring inside made my breath catch.
I knew this ring.
It was one of the few pieces of jewellery Aunt Vi had never let us play with when we were kids. Me, Lucy, and Amelia had spent hours in her wardrobe and jewellery boxes playing dress up, but this ring was in the ‘do not touch’ box, and I’d hated it. I’d loved the classic simplicity of the small diamonds clustered against the plain gold band, but she’d never let me do anything more than look at it.
I raised my gaze in her direction. She met my eyes and nodded once, answering my unspoken question.
This wasn’t a Coventry earldom heirloom.
This was her heirloom.