I closed my eyes and thought about the day we’d just had, about, well, a lot of things, all of them connected to Timothy.
I looked up, smiled, and said “Yes.”
Timothy let out a yell, picked me up, and swung me around in the air. “I bless Jack Peters, then. He has swayed you to my side. He . . .”
“No,” I said, stopping him with my finger over his mouth. “It wasn’t the golf guy. It was you.”
“Leave us,” Timothy said, without a glance at the guards because his eyes were searching mine.
The two guys turned about, almost military style, then paused. “What about dinner?” Bob asked. “Are we going down to the restaurant?”
“Room service,” Timothy barked at him.
Timothy followed them to the door, locked it, and turned to concentrate more fully on me. “Do you really mean you’re going to marry me, my darling?”
I swallowed hard, but I didn’t avoid his gaze. Marriage. That was so final. So, well — for old people. For people who wanted to settle down and have children.
Timothy chuckled. “I read that thought, my darling. I am old, and I do want to settle down. If children follow, I would welcome one or many.”
I sighed again, disengaged from his arms and walked over to stick my nose in the midst of the yellow roses. I inhaled and savored the scent. I took a moment to think about what I wanted to say and to examine my pseudo promise.
Breathing in the aroma of the room, the elegance all around me, the luxury of chocolate covered strawberries, I wondered if I were allowing that to influence me, but then I recalled my conversations with Timothy, the adventures we’d shared, his tenderness on the airplane, and the sweet intimate moments of our nights . . .
I calmed myself and drew in a couple more deep breaths. “When you were my age, Timothy, when you were twenty-two, would you have been ready to settle down?” I asked, half challenging him and half curious.
He gave me that devastating smile of his. “Yes,” he said, nodding his head and searching my face for understanding, “Yes, if I were with the right woman.”
He walked over to the fancy couch, ran his hand over its arm rest, and turned to view me. “I had to wait a long time for you, Penelope. Forgive me if I try to rush you before you’re ready. I understand that you’re just starting out, exploring the world and your abilities. But, I promise that you can do that with me. I vow to support every one of your wishes.”
I guess he realized that I was feeling pressured again. He sat down on the couch and asked, “What is it you want from life, Penelope, before being ready to pledge your heart to me?”