Page 130 of The Lies I've Told
“I hope that, whenever you find yourself up against the impossible, you’ll come here and remember the blind carver who made a beautiful life with just a little patience and prayer. Thank you.”
I stood the second he finished his last word, so filled with pride that my eyes were leaking. I rushed the stage along with the rest of my family. I knew he’d be flooded with media asking for interviews, but I needed to get my hands on him first.
Jake and James were doing a pretty good job of giving him a wide berth from the crowd. Too much commotion caused him to panic when he was in an unfamiliar area, but the second they saw me, they let me through.
And he caught me the moment my body collided with his.
“It was perfect,” I whispered in his ear.
“Yeah?” His hands tightened around my waist.
“I love you,” I said, pulling back so that he could see me.
Up close, he could still make out features, like the color of my hair and the gentle slope of my nose.
He smiled gently. “Wanna make that official?”
“Shh!”
“Do they have a clue?” he asked, his voice lowered, as I turned us away from our prying family members.
“No, and let’s keep it that way. Meet me back at the inn? After your adoring fans?”
“Fans?”
“There are media trucks all over the place.”
“Great.” He sounded less than thrilled.
“Two words,” I said. “I do.”
“Temptress. All right. But only because—”
“Shh! I’ll see you in a few hours.”
I quickly kissed him and then disappeared before he could say another word. After all, we’d worked hard to pull this one off.
Wouldn’t want to risk ruining it at the last minute.
“I’ve never loved you so much in my entire life,” I said as my brother helped me out of the car.
We’d just arrived back at the inn after he singlehandedly handled a dozen news crews like a bloody pro.
“Save the poetry for your fiancée. By the way, are you ever going to share how you popped the question? Knowing you, it was probably something well thought out and bloody boring.”
I grinned. “No, it wasn’t and not a chance.”
He suspiciously eyed me. “Bollocks. Did you ask her to marry you while you were shagging?”
I rolled my eyes. “No one saysshaggingin America, James. Who are you, Austin Powers? You’ve been here for fifteen bloody years. Acclimate!”
We walked to the front of the inn, my home for nearly a year, until I finally talked—to the extreme pleasure of Molly—my blushing bride-to-be into buying a house of our own. It had taken a lot of persuading, her nerves on high alert with the business still just starting out, but I’d assured her I had enough to keep us going for a while.
And now that I finally had her all to myself, I was never letting go.
“Acclimate. You acclimate, you damn jerk!” my brother muttered as he helped me to the front door.
“See”—I laughed—“there you go. Perfect. Now, perk up. There is a lovely party inside in my honor. Try to enjoy yourself.”
