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“Mick,” she murmured, shifting her feet in his lap, “do you think we should get married?”
He had been making small sounds on his side of the boat, the light rasp of friction between his arm and his lifejacket, the whine as he wound in his line a fraction, the quiet inhale and exhale of breath.
Everything went silent.
Nerves eventually drove her to open her eyes. He was staring at her. Just staring, his knuckles white around his rod. Then he propped it carefully in the back of the boat and reached into his pocket to remove his wallet. He withdrew a small bundle wrapped in cloth from the zipped compartment and tipped it out into his palm.
The band was gold and the stone was a rose, the petals in bloom, exquisitely carved from a ruby.
“I’ve been waiting for the right moment.” His fingers and his voice were slightly unsteady, but he managed a rueful smile. “When you came home and almost slammed the door off its hinges, I figured tonight wasn’t it.”
Sophy gazed down at the ring. The perfect, perfect ring. Her mouth was dry and her chest moved rapidly. She pressed her hand there as if to slow the movements. If she had an asthma attack at this moment, she might as well heave herself overboard and be done with it.
Scrabbling in the pocket of her shorts, she pulled out a small parcel of her own and his face changed. She lifted the tissue and revealed two wedding bands, handcrafted and carved from a blend of gold, silver and copper. The best of many, many tries at an art that was entirely new to her.
She met his gaze and there was so much there that she couldn’t speak for a moment.
“Great minds,” she managed after a few seconds in which they could only sit and gawp at one another, more like victims of recent head trauma than besotted fools.
His hand, still holding the engagement ring, came to cover hers and their fingers curved and knotted together, holding the three rings secure. His other arm wrapped around her neck and his nose pressed to hers.
“Great life,” he corrected firmly.
And she smiled.
