36


LOTTIE

Tears are in my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s what I should have done in the first place.

“Richard,” I say for a third time. “Even though I’m currently married to someone else—will you marry me?”

There’s a taut, still silence. The last sliver of light from the sun slips away into the sea, and, above us, tiny stars start to glimmer in the deep-blue sky.

“Of course. Of course. Of course.” Richard envelops me in a bear hug.

“You will?”

“Of course! It’s what I want. Marriage. To you. Nothing else. I was an idiot before.” He hits his own head. “I was a fool. I was a—”

“It’s OK,” I say gently. “I know. So … it’s a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes! Oh God.” He shakes his head. “Of course it’s a yes. I’m not letting you get away again.” He’s holding my hand so tightly, I think he may break a bone.

“Congratulations!” Fliss throws her arms around me, while Lorcan pumps Richard’s hand energetically. “You’re engaged! For real this time! We need champagne!”

“And an annulment,” puts in Lorcan drily.

I’m engaged! To Richard! I feel light-headed with euphoria and shock at myself. I proposed? I proposed? Why didn’t I do this before? It was easy!

“Good work!” says Lorcan, kissing me. “Congratulations!”

“I’m so happy.” Fliss is hugging herself. “So, so, so happy. It’s exactly what I hoped for.” She shakes her head disbelievingly. “After all that.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand.

“After all that.” I squeeze it back. A waiter is passing, and Fliss summons him over.

“Champagne, please! We have an engagement to celebrate!”

And now, as we all finally draw breath, there’s a pause. Everyone’s looking at the ring lying in my palm. Richard still hasn’t taken it from me. Should I slide it onto his finger? Or just hand it over? Or … what? What are you supposed to do with men’s engagement rings?

“Sweetheart, about the ring,” says Richard at last. I can tell he’s trying to contort his face from “dubious” to “enthusiastic,” but it’s not working.

“Nice ring,” observes Lorcan.

“It’s lovely,” says Fliss encouragingly.

“Absolutely,” says Richard quickly. “Very … shiny. Very smart. It’s just that—”

“You don’t have to wear it,” I say hastily. “It’s not for wearing. You can keep it on your nightstand or whatever … maybe keep it in a drawer … or in a safe.…”

The look of relief on Richard’s face is so palpable, I can’t help laughing. As he hugs me tight again, I slip the ring into my pocket. We’ll just quietly forget it.

I knew that ring was a mistake.

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