Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty- Three
D ay after day, Roman showed me different areas of his hometown and the surrounding region. We went to the vineyards and wineries. We hiked trails that I thought would kill me. We ate fish that had been caught from the ocean just hours before. We had breakfast and dinner with his parents, and his sisters came and went like it was Grand Central Station. And we drank copious amounts of wine and ate so much food I could no longer do up the button on my jeans.
Every night I went to bed in Roman’s arms and with a song in my heart.
Everything was perfect.
Except each time I tried to broach the subject about my ticking time bomb, Roman dodged the question like the plague.
Leading up to Christmas were some of the best days of my life. One evening, he took me out on his boat just as the sun was setting. But he insisted I wear a blindfold. Giggling, I was hardly able to contain my excitement as he rowed the boat, rather than starting the engine. I clutched a blanket around my shoulders, and we silently glided out on the ocean where the only sound was the whoosh of his oars in the water.
A few minutes later, he stopped, and after easing in beside me, he removed my blindfold.
My breath caught at the view before me. The dark hillside was lit with hundreds of nativity scene lights. “Oh, Roman. It’s beautiful.”
“In 1961, a vineyard owner built a simple cross in the middle of his yard and lit it up. It was to recreate an ancient pilgrim’s cross. Each year he added to the cross, and now there are more than two hundred and fifty figures. It was entered into the Guinness World Records as the world’s largest nativity scene.”
I curled the blanket around Roman’s shoulder cocooning us together, and as we bobbed gently in the water, clutching our hands and looking out at the magnificent display, I had the strange feeling that this was some kind of sign—maybe telling me that little by little, things do come together, and before I knew it, everything would be perfect.
I hoped so.
Yet the damn ticking clock in my head was now a sonic boom, loud enough to set off avalanches.
In the following days, his mamma let me help her cook some amazing meals, and even better than that was Roman teaching me how to make pasta. We giggled as we cooked and spread flour from one side of the room to the other. I was adding so many new firsts to my little book that come the new year, I would need a new, much bigger book.
Roman’s mamma was fifty-seven years old. She had the stamina of a twenty-year-old, the wisdom of an eighty-year- old, and the cheekiness of a teenager. I loved her from the very first moment we met. It was both weird and wonderful being welcomed into a family that barely knew me, but it was like I was always destined to be there.
I felt so at home.
I had never felt so complete.
Christmas lunch was an event that had been a whole week in the planning, and I was as excited as a kid in a candy shop when the day finally arrived.
After they’d removed all the other furniture between the lounge room and kitchen, they set up a table that was huge—at least forty feet long.
Roman made me sit at the middle setting. “It’s tradition,” he said. Although he didn’t elaborate on exactly what tradition it was.
His entire family was there. And not just his sisters and brothers-in-law and their kids. There was also Roman’s grandparents, Mario and Maria, and six of Roman’s uncles and aunties. And there were a few other people who I had no idea how they fitted into the family. At one point, I tried to count but gave up.
At first, it was loud and so mind-boggling, my eyes and ears hurt. But when I convinced myself to relax and just take it all in, I sat back and observed all the smiling faces and jovial banter, and I lost myself to a family spirit that I’d never known existed.
Roman curled his hand over my leg. “You okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He rolled his eyes. “My family can be overwhelming.”
“Not overwhelming. Amazing.”
“You’re amazing.” He leaned in and planted his lips on mine.
“Hey.” Donatella aimed a long red fingernail at us from across the table. “We’ll have none of that.” Despite her words, her smile confirmed that she approved of us.
That alone was enough to have my heart swelling.
Every minute of Christmas Day was spectacular. The people were happy and cheerful. Lots of jokes and funny jibes were tossed around. The food was overflowing as was the wine. Everybody got on. There was not a single fight or delicate moment.
It was almost too perfect to be real.
That night when we finally retired to Roman’s room, I had to undo the zipper of my jeans just to sit on his bed. I was going to explode. The moon was high and cast a white stripe through the middle of the watery expanse. Cool ocean breezes whistled from the ocean, and the windows gave a slight rattle against the buffering wind.
Roman sat beside me and curled my hair from my face. “Thank you.”
Smiling, I turned to him, angling so I could see him better. “For what?”
“For everything. For being here. For being you.”
“Well, it’s not like I can be anybody else.”
“You’d be surprised how many people try.”
Nodding, I huffed out a long, slow sigh. That was me. Before I met Roman, I was miserable and lonely, and yet I acted like I was just fine. I will never do that again.
A tiny smile curled on the side of his lips. “I have something for you.”
I cocked my head. “You do?”
He strode to his desk and came back with a card.
“Oh, Roman, you’re mean. I thought we weren’t doing Christmas presents.”
He sat again and the serious expression on his face had my heart thumping way too fast. Roman rarely did serious. When he sighed and blinked at me, I could tell he was nervous, and that had my heart pounding even harder.
Whatever it was, he was working out how to break it to me, and it was something I wouldn’t want to hear.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
I’d known this moment would come. When I’d flown from Sydney to London in my quest to somehow find Roman, I’d known that even if I did find him, our time together would be short-lived. Yet at the same time, just one more day with him would’ve been worth it.
I should consider myself lucky that we’d had twenty days together.
My heart clenched as I prepared to hear the inevitable.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
Roman glided his fingers along my thigh. “I didn’t want to have this discussion until I had a full plan.”
I cocked my head. “What plan?”
“I know what you’re going to say, so just hear me out. Okay?”
My chest squeezed even tighter. “Okay.”
“I’ve been looking at tour-guide jobs, and there are a few opportunities for both driver and guide.”
“But I can’t work in Europe, Roman. I have to leave.”
“I’m not talking about Europe. I’m talking about South Africa, or New Zealand, or Asia.”
I jerked back. “Oh no, no, no. You can’t leave your family. I won’t let you do that.”
“Yes, I can. All my sisters have traveled the world. Donatella spent four years overseas hopping from country to country. She drove Mamma crazy not knowing where she was. But she eventually came back. They all came back. It’s my turn.” He cupped my cheek. “With you.”
My heart danced as I pictured us exploring the world. But then a brick dropped in my chest. I couldn’t let him do it. I placed the envelope on the bedcovers. “Oh, Roman.” I squeezed his hand in mine. “That all sounds so nice, but . . .”
“Okay.” He sat back, hands squished between his knees, a mixture of seriousness and cheekiness on his face. “I’m ready. Hit me with your buts.”
“I’ll hit you on the butt.”
He stood and bent over, pointing his glorious ass at me. Giggling, I smacked his bottom. “Sit down, you crazy idiot.”
“Come on. Let’s hear all the reasons why we can’t take off and explore the world together.”
“Not all the world,” I corrected.
“True. Not Europe.”
I rolled my eyes. “First and most important is that your family needs you. Your parents need you.”
“They’re as strong as oxen, and my sisters are here to help them.”
“But what if they get sick, really sick?”
“Dais, you can’t go through life thinking like that or you’ll never do anything. If something happens, we’ll cross that bridge.”
“What about your nieces and nephews? They love you.”
“And they’ll still love me when we eventually return.”
My shoulders slumped. “But I can’t return.”
“You can if we get married.”
My jaw dropped. I blinked at him.
He got down on one knee. My heart thumped so hard it hurt. My trembling hand shot to my mouth. “What’re you doing?”
“Daisy, I knew from the first time I heard you laugh that you were the woman for me.”
Tears pooled in my eyes.
He reached for my hand, capturing my attention with his stunning eyes. “Daisy, I promise never to hide my feelings from you again. I promise that side by side the two of us will have an amazing life together. And I promise to love and protect you forever. Daisy Chayne, will you marry me?”
“Oh, God.” My throat swelled so much I couldn’t breathe. Tears blurred my vision. Everything about me was dying to say yes. But I couldn’t. Not yet. “I want to, Roman. I want to so bad it hurts.”
“So, say yes.”
“But we have so much to work out. We don’t even know what country I can live in.”
“None of that matters. What matters is that I love you more than anything in the world.” Roman looked right into my soul. “I wake in the morning and with you at my side, I’m stronger than I’ve ever felt in my life. I sleep at night knowing my world is complete. I love you with all my heart.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a tiny velvet box and flipped the lid. An engagement ring with a simple princess-cut diamond was nestled inside. “Daisy, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
My heart skipped a beat at the genuine love in his eyes. Tears trickled down my cheeks. “Yes. Oh, God. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He glided the ring onto my trembling finger, and I admired it for a few seconds before I launched forward to wrap my arms around him.
He toppled backward and we flopped onto the floor, me on top of him, giggling.
I clutched his cheeks and kissed his nose, kissed his forehead, then squished our lips together. I pulled back, admiring the single diamond. “I can’t believe you already bought a ring.”
His grin was spectacular. “I was going to propose to you out there”—he pointed to the ocean—“when I took you to that nativity scene. But it was too dark.”
I leaned forward and kissed him again—deeper this time, slower. I inhaled his glorious, manly scent. Everything about Roman drove me wild.
His fingers inched up my shirt and with the flick of his fingers my bra released.
I pulled back. “Hey, what’re you doing?”
Grinning like a randy teenager, he fed his hands into my shirt and cupped my breasts. “Playing with your boobies.”
I burst out laughing. “Boobies?”
Roman’s smile was spectacular. “Yep. Beautiful boobies.” He squeezed and caressed them in a way that was tender and sensual.
It was the first time I’d heard that term, and from Roman it was absolutely perfect. Notch another first on my list. I caught sight of the envelope and curling my lip through my teeth, I prepared to call Roman a name I’d never thought possible. My fiancé. My list of firsts keeps getting better and better. Weaving my fingers into his hand, I looked into his incredible eyes, and said, “So, my darling fiancé, what’s in the envelope?”
“You’ll have to open it and see.” His eyes glistened so brightly. Whatever was in that envelope was going to be as spectacular as his proposal. Not that that was even possible.
Still straddling him, I reached to get the envelope off the bed, and his hands remained fixed on my boobies.
I slipped my finger beneath the seal and pulled out a Christmas card. Inside were two plane tickets.
My heart exploded. My jaw dropped.
And a delighted squeal burst from my throat.