Sway With Me(69)
She leaned in, breathing hard as her lips hovered over his. “Money is important, but in the end, it’s nothing without love.” She softly kissed him then drew away. “Which is why I can’t accept the mansion.”
His heart plummeted to his feet. Had he misunderstood? “I’m sorry. I thought you—”
“I love you,” she interrupted, her fingertips brushing his lips. “But a house without you isn’t a home. I want to share it with you. I don’t know how we’ll make enough to cover the bills and pay the taxes, but I want to try.”
A lightness flooded his system and he couldn’t stop from smiling.
She loved him.
He’d always take care of her. He never wanted her to feel less than one hundred percent secure again, and he’d sacrifice anything to make that happen. “I know how. I’ll go to work at Stavros Industries.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “As your Muse, I can’t let you give up your carving.”
He chuckled. “Whittling.”
“What?”
“That’s what it’s called. Whittling.”
She smiled. “Well, then I can’t let you give up your whittling. I have faith we were meant to be together, and somehow, we’ll find a way to make it work. Uncle Alexander went through all this trouble, it would be a shame to disappoint him.”
“You really believe he played matchmaker?”
“Yes, I do. After all, he was at our dream wedding.”
Suddenly, Ryan recalled the violin player in his dream who had led them through the village for their wedding reception. Alexander held the special honor of uniting them in that lifetime. Apparently, he could claim the same in this one. And, he’d provided the perfect segue way into Ryan’s question.
Ryan stood from the bench, then knelt on the cold, wet ground, but he didn’t feel the dampness. He was too filled with warmth for the woman in front of him. “He was at that dream wedding. It’s too bad he’ll miss our next one.”
Portia let out a little gasp. “What . . . what are you saying?”
His hands shook as he seized hers. “I’m not saying anything. I’m asking. I can’t afford a diamond ring or a mansion or anything you deserve, but I do promise this: I will love you forever. I’ll keep you protected and warm in my arms. There will always be dancing and art and laughter wherever we choose to call home. Because my home is with you, whether it’s in a house, a shack, a tent, or on the ground underneath the stars. Portia Dubrovsky, will you marry me?”
“Yes.” She began to cry happy tears and threw her arms around his neck. “I’ll marry you. You are my everything.”
They held each other tight until clapping alerted them to their audience. Reluctantly, he broke away to peer over his shoulder at one of his old professors and a couple of students. He got to his feet and nodded to them in greeting.
Her cheeks flushed, Portia went on the toes of her sneakers in an obvious ballet pose. “Let’s go tell George and get that paperwork signed so we can go home.”
Home had never sounded better.
Leaving the Lexus behind, they took the Corvette straight to George. He couldn’t stop touching her as if she’d disappear if his hand left her thigh. A couple times his fingers unintentionally drifted higher up her leg—okay, maybe not exactly unintentionally—and she playfully swatted his arm with a wicked gleam in her eye filled with promises of what was to come as soon as they walked through the front door of their home. He doubted they’d make it past the foyer. Or the door. Good thing he’d fixed it.
He parked his car, and hand in hand they crossed the street into George’s building. They smiled to each other as they stepped into their elevator and kissed before they strolled into George’s office suite. Yeah, they were one of those obnoxiously sweet couples who couldn’t keep their hands off each other even in public. And he didn’t care one bit.
Sitting behind her desk, the receptionist took one look at them and picked up the phone. “Mr. Pappas, I have Ms. Dubrovsky and Mr. Sullivan here for you again.” She grinned as she listened to her boss and hung up. “Follow me.” With a slight bounce to her step, she led them through the door, down the hallway, and ushered them into George’s office.
With a half-eaten sandwich and a Big Gulp in front of him, George reclined in his chair, his feet dangling. “Have you two come to an agreement?”
Ryan slid a chair out for Portia and settled in the seat beside her, immediately taking her hand. “Yes. We’ll both sign the deed. Even though it won’t matter soon.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “Portia has agreed to marry me.”