Page 129 of Say You Will

“Yes! Yes, Henry. I’ll marry you.”

As I slide the platinum band on her finger, I smile so hard it turns into a shout of laughter. Then I kiss her again before speaking. “The first time I proposed, I assumed you’d be happier with something you chose yourself. I thought the ring was just a ring, but it’s actually a metaphor for how I feel about you. So, I told the jeweler I wanted the best quality, ethically sourced, and in the largest size possible to still wear comfortably on your finger.”

She holds her hand out to admire it and bites her lip. “It’s absolutely . . . huge.”

My lips curl at the corners, and I prepare to push her buttons because I love when she scolds me. “As I said. It’s a symbol. You should know, this ring cost a lot more than Bronwyn or Clarissa’s. Because I love you better.”

“Oh my God.Henry. It’s not a competition.”

I frown, pretending to be puzzled. “How can it be a competition when our relationship is so quantifiably superior?”

She shakes her head and fights a laugh. “You’re not supposed to say it out loud.”

I stand and help her to her feet. “Prepare yourself.”

Her brows come together in confusion. I take off my glasses and toss them onto the nearby side table.

She bites her lip and eyes me like I’m dinner.

“I love the way your bosom heaves every time I take my glasses off.” I stare blatantly in appreciation at her beautiful breasts as they lift and fall beneath the silver gown. Her nipples stand at attention, awaiting their kiss. “It’s extremely gratifying.”

“That’s because you look naked to me without them. Also, never call my breasts a ‘bosom’ again. It’s almost as unsexy as ‘duck call collection.’”

“Noted.”

I find her zipper easily. It was only a few hours ago that I slid it up in the first place. I pause. “I did this all backward. We were supposed to eat dinner. Then I’d propose. Then I’d give you a minimum of three orgasms.”

She moves against me and kisses my neck. “Dinner can wait.”

forty

Franki

June

I’m Gonna Be | Sleeping At Last

“Istill can’t believeyou renovated your cottage for our wedding.” I lean on my mahogany cane. I’m flaring today, of all days, but not only is it not going to stop me from making my wedding vows, it’s not going to keep me from enjoying every second of it.

Bronwyn had the florist decorate my cane with vines and tiny flowers. It’s pretty and gives a bit of a fairy-in-the-wood vibe. It matches this cottage.

Bronwyn looks around the bedroom, with its cream-colored walls and romantic canopy. “This cottage was ugly, and it held really bad memories for Dean and me since this is where he found me. Now, it’s pretty and has new, wonderful memories. Plus, it’s nice because if they want it, our guests have their own cozy little love nest when they come to visit. You and Henry will be the first to stay here.”

“It feels magical now.” Clarissa, wearing a sage-green, polka-dot dress, smooths the quilt under her hand as she sits under the canopy of the white-painted four-poster bed.

The renovation was transformative. Aesthetically, the cottage no longer resembles the original structure that’s been here since the 1950s. Bronwyn had the roofline changed, adding multiple gables. Tall, mullioned windows, their frames painted a deep green, overlook overflowing window boxes. The ones in this first-floor bedroom are thrown open to catch a warm breeze that caresses my skin and sets the sheer pale-green curtains dancing. The light of early evening washes the room in a golden glow. The sun will set soon. Phee took an extra nap this afternoon just so she could stay awake for the party tonight.

Charlotte, wearing a rose-colored tea-length dress, places her hands on my shoulders and turns me to face the cheval mirror. Standing behind me, she leans forward to look at me in the mirror, her soft cheek against mine. The faint scent of Lancome’s La Vie est Belle feels familiar and comforting as she holds me close. “You’re stunning. You belong in an enchanted forest today.”

I meet her pale blue eyes in the mirror. “I feel pretty.”

“Pretty? Good lord, you’re gorgeous,” Bronwyn shouts across the room.

I laugh and turn to face my family. Or most of the female members of my family, anyway. The guys are off doing whatever men do before weddings.

Clarissa nods, a huge smile lighting her piquant face. Auburn curls are piled on top of her head, and her freckles give the impression she’s been sprinkled by a mischievous fairy. “It’s true. You’re utterly lovely.”

Janessa, in scarlet pants and a matching corset-style top, rises from the chair in the corner. I didn’t make a dress code for my bridesmaids. I told them I wanted them to wear something they felt beautiful in. It was my only requirement.

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