I smile and laugh and sob at the same time, a strange combination.
“You know, Wayne,” I whisper, laying my cheek against his chest. “For a seven-foot giant billionaire, you’re actually pretty freaking romantic.”
His hand smooths through my hair as Rusty yips at our feet, grinning.
“Don’t let word get out,” he says, and when he bends down to kiss the top of my head I can feel that he’s smiling.
Chapter Thirteen
Wayne
Anna is a tall woman with high cheekbones and a friendly smile, but as the four of us sit around her welcoming dining room table to eat dinner, I can see the note of suspicion behind her hipster-framed glasses.
She can’t be that suspicious, of course, otherwise she wouldn’t have said yes to the most important question I could’ve asked her.
But it’s there and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m glad that Winter has an older sister like Anna, a woman who will look out for her no matter what happens, a woman who regards her with the same iron loyalty as I do.
Her fiancé has long brown hair worn in a man bun and wears a baggy T-shirt with a cartoon of a superhero on it, and as he and Anna exchange glances over dinner, I can tell how much they care about each other.
I see the same certainty in Mark’s eyes as he looks at Anna that I feel blazing in my chest, always, a fire without end, a fire that could melt the miles and miles of snow stretching from this two-bedroom New England house all the way to New York City.
“This is delicious,” Winter says, taking a bite of the home-cooked chicken. “Really, Anna. I mean, you’ve always been a good cook, but this is something else.”
“Thanks, sis,” Anna smiles. “It helps having a proper oven, and not that freaking monstrosity we had to put up with in our first apartment.”
Winter giggles, the sweetest sound in the world.
“Oh yeah,” she says. “Those were the days, holding the thing shut when the door broke. Oh, sweet memories.”
“Yeah,” Anna says sarcastically. “Sweet freaking memories. How’s your story coming along, by the way?”
“Can’t you tell?” Mark says, grinning at me. “They’ve written their own story, Anna.”
I smile across the table at Winter, looking like a resplendent empress in her off-white shirt, the top button undone to show a glimmer of her smooth skin. Her hair falls like melting snow around her shoulders and her pine-green eyes blaze with nerves and excitement, clearly hoping that this unlikely meeting goes well.
“Mark,” Anna chides. “Don’t embarrass my little sister.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Winter says, meeting my eye. “I’m proud. He’s right. We did write our own story, and even if it’s the craziest thing that could’ve happened, it’s—Hey, what the heck is that?”
Outside, the blades of the helicopter cut at the air, making loud whooshing noises.
Anna smiles knowingly and nods at her little sister.
“I have a feeling that might be for you.”
“What? What’re you talking about?” Winter says.
“They’re early,” I mutter. “But that’s fine. Let’s finish our dinner. Then, Winter, if you’ll come with me, I want to take you for a ride.”
She bites her lip and I can see the nerves dancing across her face. I spoke with Anna earlier about taking care of Rusty for a few hours, anyway, which she was glad to do, since the little happy-faced terrier took an instant liking to her.
And asked her something else too.
Permission.
“Of course I’ll come with you,” Winter says after a moment. “You don’t even have to ask. You know that.”
“You didn’t mention you had a pilot’s license,” Winter giggles in my headset as I guide us across the skyline, heading toward the Comet headquarters in New York, the chopper gliding smoothly toward the helipad under my steady control.
“Nobody likes a boaster,” I chuckle. “What do you think of the view?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s lovely,” she says. “Yes, I’m sure if I were to look at it, you know, if it was a picture or a screensaver or something, I’m sure it’d be freaking perfect.”
I laugh again, feeling lighter and more carefree than I can remember ever feeling.
I land us softly and then wait for the blades to stop chopping at the air.
Then I leap from the pilot’s seat and walk around to the back, offering Winter my hand as she grins from ear-to-ear. I can tell she loved it even if she whooped and hollered more than once.
“You do know how mysterious you’re being right now, don’t you?”
The afternoon is white-clouded and yet glowing with a steady brightness as I lead her across the roof, right to the edge so that we can look over the city.
A fine mist has settled over the city, making it look ghostly and surreal and beautiful.
Not as beautiful as Winter, of course, but that’s a hard feat to aim at.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing up here?”
“Take these,” I say, reaching down to the nook where Jarvis promised he’d hid them.
As usual, my butler hasn’t disappointed me.
I stand back up with the binoculars in my hand and then direct her to a building a few blocks down from where we’re standing.
“The one with those gorgeous white flowers out front?” she says.
“Do you like it?” I ask, heart hammering crazily in my chest now.
“Well, yeah … duh.” She laughs. “It’s beautiful. Look at that door. It’s so Victorian. And those hanging baskets are just adorable. It looks out of place, but sort of magical, too, if that makes sense.”
“It’s your office,” I say, taking a step back, and then another, reaching into my suit jacket pocket and closing my hand around the most important item I’ve ever held.
My heart thumps and pommels and beats at my ribcage like it’s trying to break free.
“It’s where you’ll write your bestsellers. Because I love you, Winter, and I want to support you. Now and for the rest of our lives.”
“My office,” she whispers, her voice quiet with the backdrop of the whispering winter wind. “Wait a second … you love me?”
She turns and her mouth falls open, crystalline tears springing to her eyes as her hands fly up to try to catch her gasp. But it’s too late and her breath makes dragon plumes in the air.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” she says, staring at the glittering diamond ring as I open the ring box.
I purposefully had it designed so that it mimicked the effect of ice, the way it catches the light, the white teardrop jewels like small encrusted snowflakes.
She lets her hands drop and stumbles forward as though she’s in a dream.
“I love you,” I say, in a firm voice now, the look on her face making me feel like a fool for ever doubting myself. “I loved you the first night we spent together. I loved you the first time I saw you scratch Rusty behind the ears. I loved you the moment I held you as the wind howled outside on that frozen lake, Winter. You mean everything to me and I can’t wait to have our children together. I want – no, I need – to be with you for the rest of my life.