Page 101 of The Proposal

Does she feel the same?

She opened all the gifts I bought her earlier today after we ate breakfast. I’d never shopped for a woman before, so I mentally noted all the things she picked up, admired, or staredat longingly when we went Christmas shopping for the family a few weeks ago. She seemed to like everything I got her.

I still have one more gift burning a hole in my pocket, but now doesn’t seem like the right time to give it to her, not with all this heaviness lingering in the air.

I’m currently in bed, with my wife wrapped tightly in my arms. I’ve been lying here for a couple of hours, but sleep won’t come. It only took Arabella a few minutes before her breathing evened out, and she fell into a deep sleep. It’s been a big day for her … a big few weeks, actually.

When we came inside, Alexander was still out back. I offered to stay with him, but he politely declined, saying he wanted some time alone. I can respect that, but it doesn’t stop my concern.

I lie there until I can no longer stand it. As soon as I remove my arm from underneath Arabella, she stirs. “Go back to sleep,Bellezza,” I whisper, placing a soft kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a drink of water.” That’s partly true, but I’m going to check on my brother first. Hopefully, he’s already gone to bed.

Unfortunately, I find him exactly where I left him, outside on the deck. The half-empty bottle of scotch and the glass are now on the side table. His head is tilted back, and his eyes are closed.

At first glance, I think he’s asleep, but as soon as I close the glass sliding door behind me and step out into the night air, his eyelids flutter open, and his gaze instantly finds mine, sharp and alert.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, scrubbing his hands over his face and sitting forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I just wanted to check in on you.”

“In your underwear?”

“I was in bed. I got up to get a drink of water and thought I’d see if you were okay.”

“You better put some clothes on before my wife sees you,” he grumbles, his voice rough and sharp.

That has me smiling despite everything. I don’t know why I enjoy bringing out his grumpy side, but there’s something oddly comforting about it.

“You okay?”

“No,” he says, “but I will be. I’m just trying to make sense of it all.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I’m mad at Papa for bringing that motherfucker into the family, but I’m also sad for him. So incredibly sad. He put so much trust into the wrong person.”

“I know. He was so blinded by that man … in a way we all were.”

“Not me … I always hated him. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this story, but the night I became a made man, at the tender age of fourteen, he was there. I didn’t want to kill that guy. I was struggling internally. That look in his eyes … the way he kept begging for his life. I knew he’d done bad things, but not to me. Everything about it felt wrong.”

“I struggled my first time as well, but you know me, I was always trying so hard to please Papa,” I admit.

“I hate that you felt the need to do that.”

“It wasn’t your fault that Papa idolised you.”

“I don’t think idolised is the right word. He always made me feel like I was a disappointment.”

That confession surprises me. “It’s funny you would say that because I saw things completely different.”

“I think Papa constantly pushed for me to take over simply because I told him I didn’t want to.”

“Maybe,” I say, lifting one shoulder.

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