Consequences(114)

He grinned and bowed his nose to hers. “Yes, my dear, this entire night has been leading to this proposal. I’ve watched you—with me—in private—in public—with my closest friends—and I want you there always. I love you.”

Again, internal debate: Love? He keeps using that word. Love, do I love him? I think I do. When did that happen? Oh my, Claire needed to think about this. The napkin thing happened too quickly, this needed contemplation. “Please”—she implored—“please, let me think. I promise you an answer soon.”

He waited patiently. The carriage steadily moved through the cold crisp air. She saw her breath as she looked at her hand and at Tony. She thought about his patience as she healed from her injuries, about him risking public exposure with Dr. Leonard, about how he made her feel when she saw him walk into a room. Her contemplation took a while. They sat back in the carriage. She rested her head on his shoulder and thought. He didn’t say a word or push. Instead, he waited and tenderly held her hand.

She could decide to leave—and do what? Go back to Atlanta. Did she still have an apartment? He waited. There was a side of him that frightened her, but the idea of living without him—somehow frightened her more. She needed him. He told her that. More importantly, she loved him—she really did. Sometime during the last eight months he’d become her everything. Now when faced with the possibility—Claire couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.

Finally, she answered, “God help me, yes—Tony, I’ll marry you”—he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly. When their lips separated, Claire confessed—“I love you too.” She watched his eyes glisten with the reflection of the white lights. It was a gaze she could watch forever. As the carriage continued through the park, Claire scooted closer, laid her head back on his shoulder, and looked again at her left hand.

Tony’s voice broke the momentary stillness, “If you don’t like the ring we can look at others. It’s from Tiffany’s. We can go Friday and exchange it.”

“Oh, no! I love the ring, besides you chose it. It’s exquisite. I’m just so surprised.” She thought of something. “Does Catherine know you were planning this?”

Tony said she suspected, but he hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t know her response. “I never go into a meeting that I don’t know the outcome. I’m always prepared for every situation. Tonight I wasn’t sure. You asked about your debt being paid a few months ago. I thought perhaps you would take that option.” He leaned down to kiss her hair. “I can’t tell you how happy I am you didn’t. I know Catherine will be too.”


When the carriage arrived back at Seventh Avenue, Eric had the limousine warm and waiting. As Tony helped Claire down from the carriage and led her to the car, and he told Eric, “My fiancée and I are ready to go back to the apartment.”

“Yes, sir. Congratulations, Mr. Rawlings, and to you too, Ms. Claire.”

That night after some of the most wonderful lovemaking Claire had ever experienced, she began to consider the reality that she was getting married and that meant a wedding. “I don’t know how to plan a wedding to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“You know what I mean. This won’t be your everyday Indiana or Iowa wedding. You’re Anthony Rawlings. We can’t go to dinner without photographers—a wedding will be a national spectator event.”

He chuckled. “My dear, that’s why there are wedding coordinators and planners—we’ll hire the best. They’ll assist in everything.”