Discretion (The Dumonts, #1)(86)

But I don’t mind.

Because I have the love of my life by my side.

I have a new life here, one that transcends the one I had before, one that feels more truthful and real than I could have ever imagined.

That’s what love does to you.

It wakes you up. It makes you real.

Even so, I have a hard time believing that Sadie is lying here beside me, as she does every morning. That I could be so lucky to have found her, that I didn’t let her go, and that she didn’t let me go.

“What is going on in this brain of yours?” she asks, reaching over and running her finger between my brows. “You’re not normally so frowny first thing in the morning.”

I give her a wry look. “I think you have me confused with someone else.” Ever since moving here to our quaint little cottage in the vineyard, I’ve discovered the joys of sleeping in and taking things slowly.

“Okay, well, you don’t normally think so much when you get up,” she says. “What’s on your mind?”

“Only you,” I tell her. I lean over, brushing her messy hair off her forehead and kissing her gently. “You’re always on my mind.”

“Even when I’m right in front of you?”

“Even when you’re right in front of me.” I reach out and try to pull her closer to me, but she laughs and rolls out of bed, looking adorably sexy in her lacy underwear and tiny T-shirt with a unicorn on it.

“Oh no you don’t,” she says. “I’ve got places to go and people to see.”

“You know that we have to go to the same places and see the same people, right?” I tell her as she walks off to the kitchen.

“And I know what you’re like in the morning,” she calls out, and I can hear her filling the Nespresso machine with water. “You like to take your time, and we don’t have time this morning.”

She’s right. We’re driving down to San Francisco today, first to pick up her mother, who is coming to visit for a few days, from the airport, and then to check out the University of California, Berkeley, together. Sadie had been thinking about transferring her studies over to that school so she can continue her communications degree in the fall, but lately she’s been thinking about other options.

As much as I want her to get an education, I don’t like the idea of her moving to the Bay Area for so long, even though of course I’ll move with her. I just like the little life we’ve built for ourselves at the winery. Luckily, one of the options that Sadie wants to explore is becoming a sommelier. Being here and being around Renaud and seeing his passion for wine is rubbing off on her.

Frankly, I think she’d be great at whatever she sets out to do, as long as she’s happy. But in the end I feel like today’s visit to the university is just to appease her mother. Even though her mother loves me and approves of this new life we have, I think she still worries for her future.

Hopefully, when I propose and Sadie becomes my wife, she’ll worry a little less.

With that on my mind, I go into the kitchen and stand in the doorway, watching her push the buttons on the machine and getting discouraged when nothing happens. I don’t know what it is about it, but she’s always struggling with the damn thing.

“Why can’t we have a normal American coffee maker?” she whines, hitting the side of it and then opening it, peering in where you put the cartridges. “I could even deal with a French press. I mean, that’s French, you should approve.”

“Tell you what,” I say. “How about we ask for an old-fashioned coffee maker as a wedding gift? I’m sure someone will give us one.”

She stops her frantic fiddling with the machine, tensing up.

I really wasn’t planning on doing it this way, but I figure now is as good a time as any.

“Wedding gift?” she asks, her voice high and squeaky as she slowly turns around to look at me.

I grin, and I hope it looks steady, because I’m starting to shake inside.

Maybe I should have thought this through better.

I was going to do it in the vineyard under the stars.

I was going to do it on a sailboat under the Golden Gate Bridge.

I was going to do it in a million romantic moments.

I’m French, damn it. I shouldn’t be proposing in the kitchen first thing in the morning when the two of us are barely dressed.

But here I am.

Walking over to her, grabbing hold of her hand—the very hand that was grappling with the coffee machine—and I’m dropping to my knees.

Asking my love to be my wife.

“Sadie, mon lapin. Will you marry me?”

She’s speechless.

She didn’t see this coming. I didn’t see this coming.

But the best things in life are like that.

“Are you serious?” she asks, her other hand going to her chest in shock.

I nod, feeling the tears, the heat prickling in my nose, my throat. “Never been more serious before in my life. Even if I don’t look it right now.”

“Yes. Yes, mon Dieu,” she says, and I laugh. I laugh so hard because I’m so excited, and I’m so scared because she just agreed to marry me. “I’ll marry you, Olivier. Of course I’ll marry you.”

I grin at her. My heart is exploding from joy. I’m not sure I’ll survive it. “You’re not just saying this because of the coffee machine, are you?”