Page 43 of Strawberry Moon
I blink and look uncertainly down at the book. “I rarely do. It’ll just be adverts for other books. Nowadays, the advertisements seem to take up more room than the actual story, with the knock-on effect that the book gets even heavier to carry for us lowly sales assistants.”
He starts to laugh, and I stare at him. It’s so happy that it takes my breath away. He looks at me as if I’m something special and I hope that never changes. Mind you, if he didn’t lose that look when I crashed his car into my grandad’s garage, then it’s there for good.
“Humour me,” he murmurs.
“Okay.” I turn the page, and something falls out of the book. I grab it. It’s a piece of paper with ragged edges. I see the scrawled writing and exclaim, “Oh my autograph. You had it all along. I might frame it.”
“Why don’t you read what she wrote?” He seems to be holding his breath.
I offer him a curious look before unfolding the paper properly. I read the words. Then I stop and read them again. And again. I blink and double-check. Still the same.
Harry wants to know if you’ll marry him. I hope you do. I do love a good happy ever after.
Harry stirs, and I suddenly notice he has a small box in his hand. His fingers are shaking, and the sight fills me with a deep and fierce tenderness. “Harry?” I breathe.
His green eyes are very bright, and I know with certainty that I will remember this moment for the rest of my life. “Will you…?” He stops and swallows. “You are the absolute love of my life.” He opens the box, and I see a platinum band sitting on a bed of velvet. The diamonds on it are blinding. “Will you marry me?”
I swallow hard, but a tear escapes and runs down my face. I knuckle it away, and laughing, I throw myself into his arms. “Oh mygod,” I say. “Oh my god.”
His arms come up, banding me tightly to him. “Well?”
I nod frantically. “I will. I love you so much. You’re the most precious person in my life,” I manage to choke out, and he kisses me with the words still on my lips.
When we separate, he falls back against the pillows, letting out a sigh of happiness, and I collapse into him. I hold up my finger and watch as he slides the ring on. “It’s sobeautiful,” I breathe. “Look at it sparkle.” His taste would run naturally to plainer things, but he knows me, and so of course, he picked the perfect ring. “I want to show the world I’m yours, and what better way than blinding them with bling?” I say dreamily.
He laughs. “It’s not just bling. It’s Clemo Pascoe bling. I needed something to rival that top you bought last week.”
“How many times must I tell the people of Fowey that sequinscanbe daywear. It’s cruel to restrict them to nighttime.”
“You’re such a philanthropist.” I laugh and he kisses my finger tenderly. “It’s like you, Fifi. Bright, outrageous, and so pretty you can’t take your eyes off it.”
“I love you,” I say solemnly. “I’m going to be the best damn husband you’ve ever fucking had.”
“It’s like proposing to Wordsworth.”
I snort and hug him tight, pushing my face into his neck and inhaling the scent of him, determined to preserve this memory in my brain so I can pull it out and examine it years from now. We lie together in a peaceful silence that still manages to be filled to the brim with love.
“I must admit I’m relieved.” I sigh as his hand skims lazily up and down my back.
“Why?”
“Well, since the car incident, I always worried that you had a thing for the vicar.”
“Oh, shut up.”
I let out a peal of laughter. “We’re going to happy-ever-after the shit out of our lives, aren’t we?”
He kisses my head. “Clemo, I have zero doubt about that.”
