Golden Luckenbooth

Sixty-Three

My breath hitches in my throat as I stare at the ring, my eyes wildly flitting between the box, Harry on one knee, and those emerald green eyes that have captivated me for months now. Surely it's way too soon for this?

Shit. Is this an over-correction? An apology for going on tour? Is this just to stop my complaints?

My hand flies to my mouth, and I am relieved that I cannot speak since Harry hasn't actually asked me anything.

"I, um, know it's early, and you don't, um, have to wear this if you don't want to. In fact, we don't have to do this now, but I, um, well, I wanted you to have a Luckenbooth now cause, um, I assume you know this since you're Scottish, but, um, I just learned it a couple of months ago. Anyway, um, a Luckenbooth isn't just a way of saying how much I, um, love you. It's also meant to protect the bairn."

I giggle a little when he uses the word 'bairn'. My emotions swirl from excitement to gratitude to fear to anxiety and back around to excitement in a never-ending circle. Part of me wants to throw up while another part wants to shove that ring on my finger and kiss him senseless.

Harry continues, "So I, um, I commissioned, um, one from a jeweller in Glasgow, and he finished it this week. It's rose gold and platinum, and the, um, the diamonds are all conflict-free."

Air enters my lungs at the velocity of a startled hummingbird. When I look more closely, I spy several smaller square and round diamonds on the band and crown of the ring as they surround the enormous pear-shaped diamond in the centre.

"I picked it up last night, um, because I left the manor early, which is why I was, uh, here when Paddy literally ran into me as he rushed to...well, you know."

He still hasn't actually asked a question though so I remain mute.

"Um, I don't want you to marry me –"

"Huh?" The syllable slips through my lips, interrupting him, and he glares at me, impatient that I hadn't waited.

"I wasn't finished yet," he breathes, and I have to laugh. When he's no longer scowling at me, he continues speaking. "I don't want you to marry me because we're having a baby together. I want you to marry me because you know you and I belong together. We fit perfectly."

There's still no question, so I patiently wait while Harry stares at my face, my eyes, my lips.

When he doesn't speak for what feels like an hour, I lick my lips. "Was that a question?"

Shaking his head ruefully, he looks down at the box and smiles that impish grin. "I suppose it wasn't. Um, let me try again." He clears his throat. "I'm a little nervous here, Anna."

"And you think I'm going to bail you out?" I wink. "Isn't your knee getting sore? Don't you want to sit down?"

"Oi!" He giggles nervously. "Okay, okay. Let me get the words out." Looking down at the floor, he takes a deep breath and pauses prior to looking me in the eyes and speaking softly but confidently, especially compared to his first launch filled with 'ums', says, "Dr. Anna McInroy. I know it's a bit... unconventional, our story. Grapes, a panicked dog sitter, and a veterinarian who turned out to be the most incredible person I've ever met. But from the moment I saw you with that focused look in your eyes as you tended to Boomer, I knew there was something extraordinary about you. Your intelligence, your compassion, your wit... it's captivated me. You've shown me a side of life I never knew existed - the delicate balance of life and death, the unwavering dedication to a creature in need. You've shown me what it means to truly care."

I gasp at the beautiful words he's concocted for this proposal.

He continues, "And then there's you. Your laugh lights up a room, your kindness is infectious. You've mended more than just a dog's heart, you've mended mine. So, here's the thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Laughing, learning, and exploring the mysteries of life together. Will you marry me?"