Page 96 of Boarded Hearts

I laugh and squeak out, “As in definitely, one hundred percent yes.”

It’s there, with a stunning emerald engagement ring on my left hand, telling me one day I’ll be Mrs. Morgan, that the man I almost discounted as a cocky, only-up-for-a-good-time playboy, makes sweet love to me under the northern light sky.

“Have you heard from Zach?” I ask, walking into the bedroom. Jon is sitting on the edge of the king-size bed, staring down at his phone.

“Yeah, he’s just taken the test, and we now wait for the results.” He blows out a breath. “I’m glad it’s being done now, so he knows where he is before the baby’s born.”

I nod, feeling every range of emotions on Zach’s behalf. “Yeah, he’ll step up no matter what though. He’s just that sort of guy.”

“He’s one of the best guys I know. He sends his congrats, by the way.” Jon holds his phone up. “Let me take a picture to send to him.”

I plaster on my best cheesy grin and hold my hand out like the giddy teenager I am.

“Do you think he’ll be okay, you know, while you’re away?”

Jon nods assuredly. “He’ll be fine, plus I’ll keep checking in with him.”

He returns his attention back to his phone. “Mom is going crazy. She wants to know if she has a daughter-in-law yet.”

I look down at my ring for the hundredth time. “Just put her out of her misery.”

Typing out a quick message, he tosses his phone to the side. “Come here.”

I stand between his legs as he rubs up and down the backs of my thighs, palming my ass and squeezing it gently. “I think we should get married in England.”

I balk at this suggestion, assuming he’d want to get married near to his mum and dad. “Really? I assumed you’d want to get married in Seattle.”

His shrug is indifferent. “It’s tradition to get married where the bride’s from, isn’t it?”

“I guess so, but where would we hold it? Oh, maybe the place we stayed at on Boxing Day.” I can’t pronounce the name and my French accent is atrocious.

Jon smiles up at me, kissing along my jaw. “J’ai une meilleure idée.”

“Hang on, I think I remember this phrase from high school.” I tap my chin, deep in thought. “I have a…better idea?”

“C’est exact.”

I clap my hands, far too excited by my small triumph.

“Qu’en est-il de vingt-deux Kennington Voie?”

“Hm, this one might be a bit above my pay grade. So, I think the first part is ‘what about’ and I know what Kennington is, that’s my par?—”

I pause and attempt to process what I think he just said.

“That’s my parents’ old house,” I whisper. “We can’t marry there.” I chuckle at the outrageous notion. “Not unless the current owners allow us to hold a ceremony and grant us a license.”

“No, you’re right, that would be a bit far-fetched.”

“Just a little.” I laugh, staring down at my ring, again.

“It would be a little far-fetched if the owner wasn’t standing right in front of me.”

I inhale with a gasp and my head whips up to meet Jon’s steely-gray eyes, his trademark dimple-popping grin curving up to meet them.

“So, what do you say, Angel? How about marrying me in that gorgeous English garden of yours?”

THE END.

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