Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
He replies with a thumbs-up emoji.
Leah and I spend the day in Oxford at a photoshoot for the magazine.
By the time we get back to London, it’s a little after four-thirty.
“Dinner with Zach isn’t going to make you relapse, is it?” Leah asks, stopping in front of my place.
“He’s my friend, not a drug.” I laugh, opening the door.
She rolls her eyes. “Just great. You’re already lying to yourself.”
“It’s a simple dinner. I’ve never been at a better place in my life. And I think he’d say the same thing. Be proud of me. Bye, babe.” I blow her a kiss and shut the door, quickly sending off a text to Zach as I climb the stairs to my flat.
An hour later, I arrive at the restaurant he chose. After a quick glance around, I take a seat at the bar and order a drink. The bartender pours my glass of wine while I text Zach.
Em: You almost here?
Zach: I’m here. Just watching you.
I swivel on the barstool, unable to hide my grin as I scan the restaurant again. It’s crowded, and I can’t see him.
Em: Stop. Lol Where are you?
Zach: I’ve missed you.
I look like a fool laughing to myself as I search in every direction.
Em: Then stop hiding.
Zach: Before Suzanne died, she said, “Em is a good soul. A survivor. A giver. A nurturer. Any guy would be lucky to have her.”
He’s drunk. That’s the only explanation. I call him.
“You look stunning tonight,” he says.
Holding my phone to my ear with one hand and my wine glass in my other hand, I start to navigate the restaurant. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Too bad your shirt is on inside out.”
I glance down at my blouse. I’m not sure why because there’s no way to put a button-down on inside out and actually button it. “Ha. Ha. What are you doing? Seriously, how much have you had to drink?”
“Did you know you don’t actually have to be British to work for a British airliner?”
My nose wrinkles. “What are you talking about?”
“Since you have no family, I went to Suzanne’s grave and got permission.”
“So drunk, Captain Hays. You are so drunk with your gibberish. Where are you?” As I continue to weave my way through the restaurant, patrons begin to stare. I’m sure they’re wondering what I’m doing. Until … they stop.
Stop eating.
Stop talking.
Stop moving, like someone pressed pause on all life.
Silence.
So I stop because something is wrong.
“Zach,” I whisper, feeling uneasy. “Where are you?”
“I’m here,” he says, but his voice isn’t coming from my phone, it’s coming from behind me. I quickly turn, so freaked out by what’s happening around me.
“One knee?” he asks.
I can’t breathe when I see him, when I see Leah ten feet away with her camera held to her face, barely hiding her huge grin and the tears on her cheeks.
“I think your next proposal was supposed to involve one knee. Correct?” He gets on one knee and pulls a ring from the pocket of his best suit—cranberry tie. “Emersyn …”
Em-er-syn
“You should get the lamb tonight. I hear it’s phenomenal,” he says as if he can help ward off my tears.
A nervous laugh rattles my chest, eyes burning with indescribable emotion. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I nod and try to hold back the inevitable. “Your mom should have told you to get a haircut before you came here.”
His grin swells as he nods. “I’ll get a haircut.”
“I’ll order the lamb,” I whisper.
“But the real question is … will you marry me? Because it’s all I think about … all day … every day. I dream of a long engagement. Getting measured for the perfect tux with a tie in some shade of pink. I dream of gothic cathedrals and private islands. I try not to imagine you in a white wedding dress because just the thought takes my breath away—but not as much as imagining you having my babies.” He places his free hand over his heart. “Can you just imagine? Can you imagine traveling the world together? Making love on grassy hilltops? Picking out Christmas trees? Hiding chocolate eggs for our kids?”
He lets all the just imagines linger in the air around us as I spell out my answer in tears.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you as much as one human can possibly love another human. I have never loved anyone more than I love you. So just … marry me, Emersyn.”
“Zach,” I glance around the restaurant. He planned this. I don’t know how he did it, but he has exceeded my dreams times a million. “We just got …” I lower my voice. “Divorced.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Zachary …” I shake my head, wiping my cheeks. This is insane.
He gets up and cups my face, kissing my tears, whispering over my cheek so that only I can hear him, “Be my wife, Em …”