It was now or never. And he was shaking in his sensible boots. He looped the little ribbon holding the box closed round his finger and used it to pull the silver parcel out of his pocket. Then he dropped it in her hands.
‘I’m not sure it’s in season even now, but sometimes…you can just…wait too long…’
It didn’t seem to matter that he wasn’t making any sense, because she was staring so hard at the little package he sensed she wasn’t taking it in anyway. With excruciating slowness, she tugged the velvet bow and let it fall to the floor. Then she pulled the lid off the box.
‘Oh.’
Oh? Was that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?
‘Oh, Ben!’
A good ‘oh’. Warmth began to spread upwards from his toes.
Her nose crinkled in confusion. ‘Mistletoe? But it’s almost summer!’ Gently, she reached into the box and pulled the sprig out to look at it. A thin white ribbon looped round the top and was tied in an elaborate bow. ‘It’s not even plastic! It’s…’
‘…the real deal,’ he finished for her.
She stepped close enough for him to smell her perfume. ‘How did you…?’
He shrugged. ‘I have my sources.’
She twiddled the mistletoe between finger and thumb and suddenly grew more serious. ‘What does this mean, Ben?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
She bit her lip and looked away. ‘You want to…kiss me?’
Always. For ever. But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t until she’d given him the answer he wanted to hear. ‘I love you, Louise. I always will.’
Louise shook her head. ‘After all the things I said to you! I don’t deserve it!’
He couldn’t use his hands to make her look at him, so he concentrated on just pulling her gaze to his by the force of his will-power. ‘Yes, you do.’
Six months ago, he would have seen the doubt in her eyes, but the woman standing before him looked deep into his eyes and he saw the light of recognition flicker on. Slowly, she raised her arm so the little green sprig dangled above her head and, taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.
This was it. Now or never. He thought perhaps he was going to hyperventilate, but managed to pull himself together. Louise was still poised, ready for the kiss, her lips soft and slightly parted. When he didn’t respond straight away, she lifted one eyelid, making the other scrunch up.
Her whisper of uncertainty only made his fingers shake all the more. ‘Ben?’
He nodded up to the little green sprig with its cluster of white berries above their heads. ‘Look a little closer.’
With his fingers as deft as a bunch of bananas, he tugged her hand downward so the mistletoe rested at eye level and she could see the diamond ring held fast by the white velvet bow.
‘Marry me?’
Louise’s eyes snapped all the way open and she dropped the sprig on the floor, then her hands flew to her chest and stayed there.
His heart tap-danced inside his ribcage. He bent down and gently rescued both mistletoe and ring before he trampled it with his boots. Louise looked as if she was in a trance. Taking a chance, because she wasn’t slapping him in the face or running up the hill, he twirled the mistletoe above their heads once more.
‘Please…?’
‘Yes! Oh, Ben, yes!’ She threw herself at him and almost sent him flying over the edge of the balcony. He guided her hands so she gently pulled at the ribbon to release the ring and it dropped into his waiting hand.
She looked up at him, laughing and shaking her head, her eyes shining. ‘Are you for real, Ben Oliver?’
He nodded and lowered his head, then brushed his mouth across hers, savouring the moment, and slid the ring on to her left hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Louise,’ he whispered against her lips, before wrapping her in his arms and pulling her into the cool darkness of the boathouse.
Fiona Harper
As a child, Fiona Harper was constantly teased for either having her nose in a book or living in a dream world. Things haven’t changed much since then, but at least in writing she’s found a use for her runaway imagination. After studying dance at university, Fiona worked as a dancer, teacher and choreographer, before trading in that career for video editing and production. When she became a mother she cut back on her working hours to spend time with her children, and when her littlest one started preschool she found a few spare moments to rediscover an old but not forgotten love-writing.
Fiona lives in London, but her other favorite places to be are the Highlands of Scotland and the Kent countryside on a summer’s afternoon. She loves cooking good food and anything cinnamon-flavored. Of course she still can’t keep away from a good book, or a good movie-especially romances-but only if she’s stocked up with tissues, because she knows she will need them by the end, be it happy or sad. Her favorite things in the world are her wonderful husband, who has learned to decipher her incoherent ramblings, and her two daughters.
