Last Chance Proposal by Barbara Deleo Page A

soft, and she held his gaze seconds longer before turning back to the house.
    He climbed the stairs after her and shrugged his worry away. “I know he’ll be fine with Fleur, but I don’t understand why he didn’t want me there.”
    She looked at him over her shoulder, an impish grin sparking her features. It looked perfect on her.
    “I’ll have to tell him about the wedding sometime soon. He’ll need to be with us at the registry office, of course. I was thinking since he’s starting to be more relaxed that I might tell him after Christmas, what do you think?”
    “Whatever you think’s best. How much will you tell him?”
    He took off his denim jacket and threw it on the couch. “I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to lie, but I also don’t want him to think we’re going to be together forever. I’ll have to think about it. Hey, I’ve got a couple bottles of bubbles on ice for Christmas Day. What say we open one now? To celebrate all the new beginnings we have to look forward to. I can go get another one from Tom tomorrow.”
    She grinned as her eyes sparkled. “Go on then. There’s so much to do before Christmas Day, I’ll need to stay up all night anyway.”
    After he’d retrieved the wine from the fridge, Cy popped the cork and poured the fizzing liquid into two glasses. Ellie still sat at the table, but now her bare feet were propped on a chair opposite, her slim ankles crossed. He handed her a glass and she grinned. “Here’s to Jonty and you and to another fifty years of Rata Cove.”
    He touched her glass with his. “And to the woman who’s guaranteed a perfect future for all three.”
    A smile bracketed her mouth. “And old times.” She put the glass to her lips and drank.
    He swallowed a mouthful of champagne, and as rivers of warmth flowed with it through his body, the tension of letting his son go to the practice lifted from his shoulders.
    He nodded and placed his glass on the table. “Tell me. How was Jonty while I was snorkeling?” He topped up her glass and waited for the corners of her mouth to drop and the lines on her face to draw deeper. But neither happened. Instead, the smile touching her face grew wider as she cradled the glass in her hands.
    “It was amazing.”
    He straightened in his chair. “Amazing?” Sudden excitement burned. He’d presumed they’d have sat looking at each other. “Did he—” Cy shook his head. No, he couldn’t let himself hope it. “Did he…say something?”
    “No, he didn’t speak, but somehow we had a conversation. About his mum’s scarf and what her favorite colors might’ve been.”
    He couldn’t stop watching the light dancing on her face and the sweet lift of her lips.
    “About what’s scary when you’re six years old and the things we’ve both done to make ourselves feel better.”
    “Really? You talked about all that with him?” His heart beat higher in his body, and bright rays of hope surged beneath his skin. He wanted to grab her hand, lace his fingers through hers, and share this experience, share the connection she’d made with his son.
    “And more.” Her tone was impish. “But I can’t tell you what. A girl has to keep a secret if she’s asked to. It’s important to do the right thing.”
    “Perhaps I should do the right thing and reply to your toast.” He held up the glass and waited for her to bring her hand closer. “To us, and how little we’ve changed.”
    Her chin lifted and her lips parted. “To us?” She shook her head slightly. “You really don’t think we’ve changed?” Her voice was low.
    He watched her mouth, champagne-moist, and took a swig of his own, the cool, fizzing liquid stinging his throat as he swallowed. “You haven’t changed at all.”
    She put her mouth to the glass but kept her eyes on his and something punched him way down deep.
    It was a lie, and she knew it.
    Instead of the young and vulnerable girl he used to know, now a strong and independent—sexy—woman sat before