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“Oh,” she whispered, eyers sparkling with happy tears.
“What about this?” And she listened as he laid out a simple plan: to leave almost immediately for Italy, where they’d spend Christmas eve with his family, before flying early the next day to her family, for lunch.
“Do you really think…” She bit into her lip.
“What is it?” He murmured, solicitous.
“Meeting the parents, it’s kind of a big step…”
Marco laughed then, pulling her against him in a huge hug. “We’re spending the rest of our lives together, aren’t we?”
It was the first time he’d said it like that. Not a proposal exactly, but a statement of expectation, so simply put that she knew it was completely genuine and expected.
She smiled up at him and nodded.
“So let’s go tell the people we love.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I can’t wait to show you off.”
“Dante—,” she murmured.
“Will be thrilled for us.” Marco’s confidence was contagious. It wasn’t until the private jet had touched down in Florence and Marco’s car was cutting through the countryside, rolling hills on either side, that Portia’s tummy populated with butterflies once more.
“They’ll love you,” Marco, sensing it, reassured her. But as they drew near the large, double security gates of the family estate, he pulled the car to the side of the road and stared into her eyes.
“I didn’t know what would happen when I came to London.” His tone was serious, his face ashen. “I didn’t allow myself to hope. I told myself it was enough to be honest with you about how I feel for you.”
Portia’s insides clenched.
“But in the back of my mind, I hoped. I hoped your love hadn’t gone. I hoped that what we’d felt was too strong to be blighted by my stupidity.”
She reached out, put a hand on his thigh.
“I wanted,” he murmured, “for you to know how much I love you. And mostly, I wanted you to have this.” He reached into his pocket and removed a small velvet box, stared at it a moment, before cracking open the lid to reveal the most beautiful ring Portia had ever seen. A sparkling emerald in the centre, perfectly round, surrounded by a circlet of bright white diamonds in a platinum gold setting.
Her heart went into overdrive as the significance of the ring became apparent.
“Marco—,” she stared at the ring, transfixed, then lifted her gaze to his face, emotions rioting through her. “It’s very beautiful.”
“All I could think of, when I saw it, was your eyes.”
She looked to the ring again, something strange taking over her now.
“In my wildest dreams, when I bought the ring, I imagined proposing to you, that you might agree to spend the rest of your life with me. But even if you didn’t love me anymore, even if you didn’t feel that you wanted to trust me with your heart, I hoped you might keep the ring, and think of me sometimes, when you chose to wear it.”
Tears filmed Portia’s eyes. “I love you.”
He glanced at her quickly, lips held tightly.
“You know how I feel about you, and what I want. But would you take this ring, while you think about whatyouwant? Wear it today, for confidence, for distraction, or just as a constant reminder of how much I love and respect you?”
“Marco,” she whispered unevenly, but with urgency. “You’re still not very good at this.”
He frowned, uncertain.
“I love you,” she reminded him. “I’m pretty sure that what you want, and what I want, is the same thing in life.”
His eyes shadowed with disbelief at first and then relief, as he removed the ring from the box and held it between forefinger and thumb.
“To be clear, I’m asking you to marry me.”
