“That’s a bit like us,” Lance said thoughtfully. I’d glanced over.
“How do you mean?”
“On paper, we shouldn’t work, but we do. We’re meant to be together. Perhaps we were born out of order; there was a mistake in the queue somewhere. But we’ve fought for each other, and here we are.”
“You don’t believe in all the mumbo jumbo, do you?” I said, genuinely surprised. His softness still floors me on occasion. “Soul mates?”
“Of course I do,” he snorted. “Why do you think I chased you halfway around the world to bring you home? You're meant to write happy endings for living…”
I cuddled into him tight, an attempt to squeeze away the irony and divert our conversation from my flaw.
“I don’t want to go to London tomorrow.” My hands slipped under his t-shirt, stealing more warmth from him. “I should be grateful Celia has agreed to reinstate my contract, but I hate the thought of being away from you and the children.”
“We’ll be here when you get back.” He smiled.
“I wish you could come with me.” I pouted.
“I have a very important job. The reindeer won’t feed themselves, you know. I think I’ve four primary school classes booked this week for tours. My stress levels are going to be through the roof.” He grinned. I giggled.
I love fun-loving Lance; he’s so cheeky and full of life. He literally breathes air into my lungs with each wisecrack. He’s my oxygen.
“I know,” I said with a snort. “Santa’s relying on you to look after them. Ensure they’re in good shape for the big day.”
His head bobbed, the movement exaggerated. “Damn sure he is.”
Then he saluted me like the army major he is.
“Katie,” he said softly. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, did it hurt?” I chided, and he scowled.
“Bloody hell,” he scolded. “Be serious for a second. I’ve been thinking.”
My eyes held his. Unsure what was coming next, the seriousness unfamiliar.
“What if we got married?”
Butterflies danced in my stomach instantly. My heart racing. All possible replies flying off, leaving me stranded—mute.
“Only if you want to,” he stuttered. “It’s been playing on my mind, but I was nervous to ask you.”
“Are you asking me, Major McDonald?”
The air crackled, filled with hope and promise. His cheeks flushed, mine warmed in solidarity.
“Suppose I am,” he said.
“Well, ask me properly,” I teased.
He stepped toward me, taking my hands in his. I gazed up into sincere, stunning eyes.
“My beautiful Katie, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Simple. Perfect. Unexpected.
“Yes.”
***