Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I walk on dreamlike legs across the room toward the small door to the garden. Loki pads after me, but then he sits at the door when I open it, whereas usually, he’d sprint onto the rooftop garden and start sniffing around. Tommy stands in a suit the same shade as the color in his hair, the silver hugging his powerful form closely. He’s got a unique smile on his face, one I’ve never seen on him before, an intense mix of emotions that has me obsessed with him immediately, which is not saying much. He said I was his obsession, but it goes both ways.
“Good boy, Loki,” Tommy says, nodding to the Jack Russell.
I laugh in delight as I look through the door at Mom and Dad and then at the obedient little doggie. Finally, I stride over to my man, touching his arms and staring up at him.
“Thanks so much for bringing them here.”
“I think you’ve guessed the reason,” he says lovingly, leaning down to kiss the happy tears from my cheek.
“Nah-uh,” I say. “I haven’t guessed anything. Don’t think that.”
“I brought your parents here to meet them in person, and I wanted to make completely sure they were all right with us. To do that, you have to look a person in the eye. They’ve given their blessing. They’ve seen how happy you’ve been these past two weeks.”
I can’t speak, too choked with emotion, all my wildest dreams coming true.
“I love you,” he says, and that’s when I really start crying.
Part of me worries I’m ruining the moment by being a crying dork, but I’ve been around my man enough to know he’ll understand this and even appreciate it. I can imagine him kissing me on the forehead in that just-Tommy way and saying, “The way you cried, the emotion, the love… It made me want you more.”
But newsflash, I don’t need to imagine. It’s all happening right now, my wildest dreams.
“I love you,” he says again, kissing away more of my tears, “more than anything, Ami. I was terrified at the beginning, but that seems so silly now. We were made for each other. We belong together. We’re going to have a family together.”
“I love you too,” I say, gasping for breath as the emotion whelms inside me. “So much.”
“Amelia Brown, my American Amelia, you’re the only woman I ever want, the only one I need. You’re everything to me, and you make me British mad.”
“Not American mad, sometimes?” I tease, jabbing him in the side.
He catches my wrist and pulls me closer. I know the look on his face as he inhales and holds me in his gaze, his entire universe collapsing to just us. He’s about to consume me with a kiss, but then he remembers Mom and Dad and pulls back at the last moment. He keeps his face close, though.
“Just a video, Ami,” he says in awe, his smile wide and almost disbelieving, like he can’t fathom how happy we are together. “It was early in the clip, too. In a few seconds, I knew right away—your beautiful voice, charisma, cheekiness, and nerves.”
He’s getting husky, like he might break down too.
“You’re everything,” he says, his voice shuddering. “Amelia Brown…”
When he steps away, falls to one knee, and reaches into his pocket, it’s like I’m staring at him in the pouring rain again. I remember the first time I saw him, the silver-pepper-haired savage in the wild. Now we’re in the warmth of the garden together, the sun making the flowers shine, the sparkle in his hair like the glitter of the ring as he opens the box and shows it to me. It’s a beautiful diamond set within a white-gold band. It hardly seems real, the passion bursting up inside of me.
“Will you marry me?”
Yes, I say, but no noise comes out, my voice choking with tears, emotion coiling around me.
“Yes,” I say after a moment, pushing through the tears, and then I can’t stop saying it, as though wanting to make up for the pause. “Yes, yes, yes!”
He smiles and slides the ring onto my finger, then stands and sweeps me into his arms. I turn with him as he lowers me into a passionate kiss, my arms wrapped around him, his hands bracing me powerfully. We kiss for what feels like a long time but also way too short, and then he pulls me up into a hug.
“I meant what I said, remember,” Dad calls over, grinning.
“Charley,” Mom scolds, prodding him playfully. “Don’t interrupt. I’ve been getting the best picture.”
I laugh when I spot Mom’s phone in her hand.
“I bet I look like a crying dork,” I say, voicing my earlier concern, but as a joke.
“Not even a little bit,” Mom says, and she’s crying too. “I’m so happy for you both.”