Page 14 of Her Kensington
“It’s a present.” She eyes me curiously but doesn’t say any more. Once I have the tray steady on the bed, I reach for the box she’s staring at again.
“Summer, I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Will you do the honour of…staying married to me?”
Her eyes are full of tears but it doesn’t stop a stunning smile breaking across her face as she registers my words. Pulling the box open I reveal a vintage cushion cut pink sapphire sat in an elegant openwork design encrusted with diamonds.
“Oh wow,” she gushes the moment her eyes land on it. “Harrison, that must have cos—”
“Don’t,” I snap, probably a little too harshly if the look on her face is anything to go by. “You’re my wife. If I want to buy you something, I will. Okay, beautiful?” I take her trembling chin in my hands and she nods gently. “This is priceless, though,” I say, my focus going back to the ring. “It’s been in our family for years. It was my great-grandma’s. It was just waiting for its rightful owner.”
When I look up I’m surprised by the hard expression that’s fallen over Summer’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Did she wear this?”
“My great-grandmother? Yeah, but only on special occasions, as far as I know.” My words don’t seem to help and I narrow my brows as I try to figure out what’s troubling her.
“That’s not who I meant. Have you already proposed with this ring, Harrison?”
The realisation suddenly dawns. “No, no, no. This ring is yours, Summer, and yours only. I’d never do that.” Her face softens but it’s replaced with frustration.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Hey, it’s okay. I understand. Can I?” I nod to her finger and she holds it out to me. Plucking the ring from its velvet cushion, I slide it up her slender finger until it’s in its rightful home. “Beautiful,” I breathe, lifting my eyes to her face to find her staring down at her hand.
“It’s stunning. Thank you.”
I gently push her down on the bed and crawl over her. Lowering my head, I stop a breath away from her lips and smile to myself when she pouts at my lack of contact. “What?” she grumbles.
“I’m still waiting for your answer.”
It takes her a second to register what I mean, but a smile soon lights up her face before she whispers, “Yes, yes I want to stay married to you.” Reaching up, she wraps her hand around the back of my neck and tugs me down to her.
Her stomach grumbling makes me pull back from her before we end up kicking the breakfast onto the floor in our need for each other.
“Let’s feed you.”
We’re both silent, other than our groans of appreciation for the incredible mix of fruit we sit and devour. I can tell she’s deep in thought every time I look over, so I leave her in peace to her musings. She’ll talk when she’s ready.
“Why didn’t she get it?” she asks eventually, unsurprisingly. I knew it was what she was stewing on.
“It wasn’t right for her. She never understood my love of antiques or vintage jewellery. She was all about new, modern stuff. I guess that should have told me a long time ago that we weren’t a match. She chose her own ring.”
“Romantic,” she mutters, and I can’t help but laugh because most things about my relationship with Rebecca were anything but romantic. “I’m sorry, there’s just so much I want to know.”
“Don’t apologise. When I got home from Vegas it was Danni who first commented on my mood. She and Mum soon dragged the truth out of me, and two days later Mum handed me this and told me to go and do what was needed to get my girl. Apparently, my love life is like an open book to my family.”
“I really hope she likes me.”
“My mum will love you. Danni, too. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Tell me about your family.” She’s been skirting around the subject but I’m as intrigued by her story as she is mine. I’ve just done a better job of holding off asking any more questions because I know they hurt her.
“They didn’t support me and I left. What more is there to say?”
“A lot. When was the last time you spoke to them?”
She drops her gaze and shakes her head, clearly upset by the answer. “A week or so after I moved out. It’s like they stopped caring the second I was gone.”
“You know that’s not true, Summer. Parents never stop caring about their children. Being in a different state, country or whatever, it doesn’t matter.” She looks up, pain and regret in her eyes. “You should call them.”
“Now?”
