Thomas Hood
Romance seemed to scent the air at Ashdown, at least for the more grown up occupants it did. The new and established couples (and threesomes) had all spent the week making plans to pay court to their loved ones on this most sacred day of lovers. Valentine’s Day had fallen on a Saturday, removing even the flimsy excuse of work, and a faint atmosphere of rivalry had set in as the committed ones had each sought to arrange and execute the most romantic, meaningful, and unforgettable evening of all.
The competition was tough. With four sets of committed partnerships, and four couples just beginning to dip their toes in the relationship pool, the place was definitely a whirlwind of activity. Certainly, the local florists, jewellers and restaurants had attained good trade out of the Ashdown residents and their guests.
Surprisingly, or perhaps just strategically, Dawn and Connor had laid their plans out on the table first, offering to babysit Aidan, so that Buffy and Spike could have a night out, their first in the three and a half weeks since they'd become parents.
It might have seemed like the ultimate sacrifice, but Dawn was well aware that her nephew was a little sweetheart when it came to sleeping. He went down quickly and easily, and generally slept until the wee hours, when he’d wake for his one and only night feed. Provided that Spike made their restaurant bookings late enough for Buffy to feed Aidan first, Dawn decided that she and Connor would end up having a quiet, uninterrupted evening to themselves. And there was no reason that they couldn’t add ‘romantic’ to the plan as well.
Connor had offered to bring dessert and a movie if Dawn made dinner. She knew she could have asked Dave to get the kitchen to whip up something scrumptious in take out mode, but even if the meal wasn’t as delicious, she figured that making it herself, and adding attention and sweetness and love into each step, would make the dinner more special, more unique.
Because she did love him, well at least she thought she did. Which was a pretty massive step for the girl who’d thought Connor was just an idiotic, floppy-haired boy not so long ago. She was big enough to admit that a) she shouldn’t make such snap judgments without getting to know people first, and b) he was actually an amazingly cool and sweet guy. And that was despite his horrendous history.
Plus which, he’d not only helped to rescue her when she was basically little more than a stranger, but he’d also saved Buffy twice, once from certain death and the other from possible miscarriage. He was, without a doubt, her knight in shining armour.
But the thing that she loved most about him was the fact that he was just like her. Well okay, he wasn’t a mystical key. But he was a Scion, the only other one in existence until Aidan had been born. They’d worked it out once Angel had spilled all of Connor’s back-story. In amongst all of the grief and horror of his childhood, the tale of his conception and birth had sparked something in Dawn. She’d remembered Tara’s talk about the Scions back in October, her explanation that the energy matrix released during Dawn’s creation had split, most of it absorbed by Sagaria and the remainder finding its way to L.A. Connor! Connor was the result of that energy split. Dawn had known, she’d just known it in her soul, and Tara had confirmed it later.
He had brought such serenity to her life. Ever since she’d discovered the truth about her existence, she’d spent so much time wondering what and why she was. Sure she knew she was loved. And finding a role for herself within the group had also helped to ground her. But finding the guy who was kind of the other half of herself, well nothing beat that. Just being around Connor made her feel whole. So if all of that equalled love, then yep, she was definitely on board.
Neither of them had uttered the words yet, but Dawn could tell that Connor loved her, quite devotedly and single-mindedly as well. He hadn’t put any pressure on her, seeming to sense that she needed the extra time to decide how she felt. But his sweet kisses had become a little more ardent of late, his gentle hands more daring and the bulge in his jeans more pronounced as she rubbed herself against it during their make out sessions.
Dawn shivered, a little in nervous anticipation, but mostly in barely tamped down excitement, as she thought about the night she had planned. Not only would she and Connor finally exchange declarations of love, but she was planning on making love with him for the first time as well.
In order to have her perfect night, she needed Spike’s cooperation, his promise not to interfere or lose his temper afterwards and rip Connor’s arms off. Or any other part of him! Luckily, big sis had agreed to talk to her husband about backing down and giving the young lovers some much needed space. And no one had Spike wrapped around her little finger like Buffy did.
Well hopefully by the end of the evening she’d have Connor just as enamoured. Checking out the strappy heels and slinky new outfit she’d laid out on the bed, Dawn grinned and made her way through to the bathroom. Operation irresistible was ready to launch.
Wes sat down on the closed toilet seat and swallowed nervously as he glanced down at the gift nestled in the velvet box in front of him. Certainly he and Fred had exchanged presents before, they’d bought for one another at Christmas time after all. But this was different, a lover’s gift rather than one exchanged with an affectionate friend. The gorgeous white gold bracelet, set with three sparkling diamonds, shimmered in the fluorescent lighting of their bathroom.
The bracelet was certainly an appropriate enough gift, given that they were lovers, had become so in the wake of Illyria’s infestation of Cordelia. Up until that point, their relationship had progressed fairly slowly, the pace set by Wes’ natural reticence and Fred’s unassuming nature. Of course Wes had been smitten, the torch he’d always carried for her flaring into a blaze over the course of the last three months, as they’d spent more and more time with one another.
Joining the Ashdown crew had played a critical role in drawing them together. Their shared experiences, the widening gulf between them, and what remained of Angel’s team, and their mutual regard for one another’s skills and qualities, had steadily morphed their relationship from friendship to romance. Along the way, Wes had begun to gently, but openly, woo her and to his delight, Fred had not only accepted his advances, but calmly encouraged them.
But it had taken the wake up call of Cordy’s reanimation as Illyria to set their quiet love affair alight. The shock of losing their dear friend had driven them into one another’s arms, sorrow and despair fuelling their desperate embrace. Consoling kisses had soon turned passionate and they’d stumbled through to Wes’ apartment, dragging off half tangled clothes before falling naked upon his bed. They’d made love for the first time on the ashes of their friend’s demise, tears streaming down their faces even as they’d sought solace in one another’s bodies – the age-old celebration of life helping to wash away the vestiges of death.
But even as the grief receded, the attraction had not. They’d spent that long night, and half of the next day, wrapped in one another’s arms, tasting and touching every square inch, murmuring sweet nothings. The surges of testosterone through his body had lent Wes courage, and finally he had said what he’d yearned to for so long, words of adoration and desire spilling like honey from his mouth.
And Fred had lapped it all up, basking in the glow of his love for her, returning his heartfelt declarations with beaming smiles and sighs of rapture. Wes hadn’t been foolish enough to believe that she was anywhere near as enamoured of him as he was of her, but it was into his arms she eagerly went each time, his name she cried out in unfettered ardour as he drove her to completion, and he knew that counted for something.
All that had come to a head when, only days later, Cordy had managed to break through Illyria’s control and share her musings, including the announcement that the Old One had originally been intended for Fred’s shell, not her own. Once they’d got over the astonishment of Cordy’s return, Fred had fallen apart. The realisation of just how close she had come, not just to death, but to the utter annihilation of everything that made her ‘her’, tore at Fred’s heart. She’d wept, she’d raged and finally she’d fallen into Wes’ arms, broken up by the thought that they might have missed this opportunity all together, this chance to be something to one another.
From that point on they’d rarely been apart, he moving into her apartment in L.A. and the two of them sharing a suite at Ashdown. They’d become so much to one another, shared so many experiences, good and bad, including a near decapitation the previous evening, that Wes couldn’t imagine living life without her.
So no, the bracelet wasn’t over the top, but needless to say, what he’d really wanted to get Fred was a diamond ring. He’d wanted to slide it onto her left finger as she tearfully nodded her acceptance of his proposal, and post notice to the rest of the world that she was his, for today, and all the days to come. But protocol, and no doubt Fred herself, would suggest that it was still far too early in their relationship to be making such a permanent claim. His heart may not agree, for that matter neither did his normally logical and tradition-bound head. But he was scared to take the risk, fearful of rejection and ridicule.
So he’d settled on the bracelet, which seemed a fairly serious sort of gift in its own right. It undoubtedly signalled a significant degree of intent and permanency in his affections. And what’s more, it cost more than most of the engagement rings he’d casually checked out.
Wesley hoped to present her with the gift over dinner. He’d booked a table at The Mount Edgcumbe, a restaurant that specialised in classic British fare, and was set in an old Georgian house. Although he’d made their reservation for seven o’clock, they were leaving early to visit the grounds of the restaurant. Seemingly these included an attractive, secluded garden with elevated views over the common and an eighth century cave, set beneath the house itself, and used by the owners as an extension of the ground floor bar.
“Wes, are you coming?” Fred’s voice and gentle rap on the bathroom door shook him out of his musings. He’d no doubt spent a rather unseemly length of time in there. As quickly as his trembling hands allowed, he snapped the jeweller’s box shut, slid it into the gift bag and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He flushed the unused toilet and ran his hands under the tap before striding towards the door. This was to be his first proper Valentines date. He sent up a quick prayer that it would be a memorable one, took a deep breath and walked out through the door to greet his love.
Giles opened the car door for Cat and helped her in before closing it and walking around to the driver’s side. Going by the calendar, Cat was 28 weeks pregnant. But she was carrying twins, fair sized ones at that, and so she was looking closer to 38 weeks. Well that was according to Cat at least. And although Giles privately agreed that she was only slightly smaller than Buffy had been at full term, he made no comment at all, having too high a regard for his own life.
It wasn’t that his wife was overly sensitive about her size, although just this afternoon she had thrown quite a number of outfits about the room in a fit of despair that they ‘Nae longer fitted ower ma fat belly’. Mainly she was just tired and achy, which was all the more reason that he wanted to do something special for her.
She’d grudgingly accepted his invitation for a Valentines’ outing, agreeing that it would be nice to spend some time alone together away from Ashdown. Giles sometimes felt that he’d thrust this life of his on her without any chance to back out. Not just the whole ‘protecting the world from demonic harm’ state of affairs, but also the associated ready-made family. They were always surrounded by the ‘Scoobies’, as the children called the group. And of course, they’d had precious little time just as a couple before Cat had fallen pregnant. This was their first Valentines together, and he just wanted the opportunity to romance her a little.
She’d certainly been thrilled with the earrings he’d presented her with over breakfast that morning. Giles had had them made back in December to match the necklace he’d bought her for Christmas. He’d been determined to get her an oval amethyst and diamond pendant set in 14k yellow gold, to complement her engagement ring, but it had been such a hunt to find something that matched the cut and colour of the amethyst in her ring, that in the end he’d had to have it made specially. Not that he minded, it looked spectacular on her and she wore it often.
It was the jeweler that suggested he get matching earrings made at the same time, two jobs for the price of, well two, but worth it for the convenience. He’d even been the one that had proposed Valentine’s Day as the occasion to gift them. The Giles of old would have scoffed at such a suggestion, never having previously marked the hyped-up American celebration in any way whatsoever. But instead he’d been thrilled by the idea, and had ordered the earrings immediately. Nothing was too good for his beautiful Cat. He’d had to wait very impatiently for February to arrive so that he could see the look of joy and delight on her face when she received them.
She was wearing them now, and the necklace; the warmth of the gold and the white brilliance of the diamonds contrasting splendidly with the dark violet shade of the amethysts. They may not have the magical qualities of Cat’s engagement ring, but they framed the most beautiful face in the world as far as Giles was concerned, and that lent them a sort of magic in their own right.
Finding an outfit to wear with them on the other hand had been a challenge. In the end Buffy had come to the rescue, lending Cat the top she’d worn to her own birthday party. It was a long sleeved, V-necked top in royal purple, the gentle gathers falling softly over her belly and down to mid thigh. Cat had teamed the top with a pair of leggings that she could still squeeze into and a black wrap. With her hair freshly washed and styled, Giles thought she looked good enough for the Theatre, let alone a simple meal at a pub. However, with her flagging energy levels in mind, he’d made their dinner booking early and local, six o’clock, at The Griffin Inn, which was only 15 minutes drive away. But it wasn’t until they were out on the A22 that he worked up the courage to say anything.
“Ah, you look very nice tonight dear.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath and winced, not daring to look across at her. But the expected rebuff didn’t come. Instead, he heard a sigh, and with his curiosity prodded, he glanced in Cat’s direction. She was wringing her hands and biting her lip.
“I’m sorry Rupert. I ken I’ve been a bit of a bitch to bide with lately. It’s jist that I’m sae tired. This pregnancy’s takin’ mair of a toll oan me than I’d anticipated.”
Giles smiled gently as he slowed down at Nutley, indicated and turned right onto the road to Fletching. Manoeuvres complete, he left his right hand on the wheel and reached across to snare Cat’s hand in his left.
“You haven’t been a bitch by any means. Believe me, I’ve seen my share over the years, including members of my own family. And I know you're tired sweetheart. Maybe,” he swallowed, apprehension building up in the back of his throat no matter his reassuring words to Cat. “Maybe its time to consider taking leave from work.”
“Yoo’d be alright wit’ that?” she asked, startling Giles further.
“Why yes of course I would. I just thought you didn’t want to step back yet.”
“An’ I thooght yoo’d think less ay me if I could nae manage fur a wee longer,” Cat laughed and shook her head. “I guess we’d be better off doin’ a bit less thinkin’ and a bit mair talkin’ aye?”
Giles pulled into the carpark and reached across to press a kiss to Cat’s forehead.
“I couldn’t think of anything I’d enjoy more than spending my evening listening to my beautiful wife pontificate.” He grinned and leapt out of the car before she could swat him with her hand. Dashing around to the passenger side, he threw the door open and helped Cat clamber out of the car. He drew her towards him, the jut of her belly pressed between them protectively as he kissed her, openly and passionately, in the parking lot of the country pub.
“I love you Mrs Catriona Giles,” he murmured against her sweet lips, “From the very depths of my soul. Happy Valentine’s Day my darling.” He pulled back enough to thread her arm through his and turned to lead her back out to the road and along the footpath to the pub’s front entrance.
“And I love you too mo gràdh, always and forever. Now, I’m fair starvin’. Feed me man.” And wrapped up in the warmth of their love for one another, Giles and Cat strolled up the steps and into the pub.
Buffy glanced around the dining room of Thackeray’s The low ceilings and wooden floorboards gave the old house a warm, cosy feeling, while the white linen tablecloths and fine silver added a touch of elegance. A rather charming waiter had escorted them through to their table from the gold leaf lined ‘Throne Room’ bar downstairs, where they’d had a drink while they sat in opulent throne chairs. Not that she could have a ‘drink’ drink; she was breast-feeding after all. Plus which, alcohol and Buffy still weren’t very mixy. So she’d just had a juice instead.
Spike had picked the restaurant. Apparently it had once been the home of some famous British novelist. And the Big Bad had definitely let his William side out to play, wandering around checking out the memorabilia like some little fanboy. Not that he’d admit it of course, but Buffy thought it was cute anyway.
No doubt that was because she thought most things about Spike were cute. Including the awesome Valentine’s gift he’d organised for her. Sure he’d gotten her flowers and a pretty bracelet, but the best gift of all had been his organisation of a weekly block in one of the new Gym’s exercise rooms, coupled with Dawn’s agreement to baby sit Aidan. Training time, every Saturday afternoon, just Buffy and Spike. She was itching to get back into it, she hadn’t had a really good tumble, fists and fangs and sod all else as Spike called it, for at least nine months, ten if she counted her time in the tunnels.
They’d had a little warm up that afternoon. Spike wouldn’t let her go all out until she got a full clearance from Cat, but he’d still put her through her paces with a programme he’d designed especially for her. It wasn’t too strenuous, just a circuit, with some resistance work, some aerobic and some mixed martial arts training. It had made Buffy’s body sing, the adrenaline surging through her muscles like happy juice. She’d really, really missed the high that slaying gave her, and although training wasn’t quite the same thing, at least it got her blood pumping again.
“Excuse me sir, madam, are you ready to order?”
“Oh, uh, I haven’t quite …” Buffy stammered incoherently at the waiter. She’d been so engrossed in her daydream that she hadn’t even glanced at the menu yet.
“Give us another five minutes thanks mate,” Spike nodded at the waiter before turning his gaze to his wife. “What’s up pet? You seem a bit distracted?”
“Oh, just basking in the afterglow of our work out I guess.”
“So you enjoyed it then luv?”
“So, so much. Except for one thing!”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s just left me even more impatient for next weekend.” She grinned eagerly. “I’ve already given Cat a call. I’m booked in for a check up on Monday. And I think I’ll pop Aidan in his buggy and start doing some runs along the forest paths during the week. Gotta get myself in tip-top shape for next Saturday if I’m going to bring you down. I’m gonna be leaping and kicking and punching and striking so hard and so fast you wont know what’s hit you!”
“Bloody hell, luv, leave the foreplay till after dinner at least. ‘S gonna make focusin’ on this fine food sodding difficult, what with the throbbin’ hard on you’ve given me. Not to mention what its gonna do to the line of my pants when I stand up.”
Buffy giggled, more amused by Spike’s dilemma than concerned. In all honesty, it gave her a thrill to know that she still had such an effect on him; that he could find the thought of her getting her slay on so arousing. It made her hot to know that she could get him going, so quickly and so easily.
“Right, lets get our meal ordered. Sooner we let them know what we’re having, sooner they can serve us, and the sooner we can head home. Got plans for another sort of work out tonight.”
Bright eyed, Buffy grabbed up her menu and pored through the selections. Her cute grin slowly turned into a frown as she tried to make sense of the items listed on the a la carte menu. She even flipped the card over, thinking that there may have been an English version on the back. No such luck. The menu was seemingly written in English, although what half the words meant, words like Cromesquis and Ballotine, and Terrine of Crotin de Chavignol, she had no idea.
“Um sweetheart?”
“Yes kitten?” Spike replied distractedly from behind his menu.
“I've got a little gift of my own here. Fits in with that workout you were planning for later.”
“Oh?” That got his attention.
“Hmm,” she nodded as she opened her purse and drew something small out, palming it, and passing it discretely across the table and into Spike’s open hand. She giggled as he stared down, open-mouthed, at the pink foil-wrapped square in his hand, the manufacturer’s printed blue logo betraying the contents, even if the shape hadn’t made it obvious already.
“What?” Spike snapped his fist closed, glancing around the room wildly as he hid Buffy’s gift from sight. “What’s this for pet?” he whispered urgently.
Buffy’s tinkling laughter filled the space between the two of them, and her eyes shone as brightly as stars.
“If you don’t know what a condom’s for William, then I’m not liking my chances for a wild night of love making.”
“Ha ha! I know what its for pet, but what I mean is, why’ve you gifted me one. I've never ever had the displeasure of using one before you know and I wasn’t really planning on starting anytime soon.”
“Well if that’s the case Mr ‘I’m a Real Boy Now’ you’d better be happy with a hand job or a blowjob,” Buffy whispered, “Cos’ Cat seems to think I’m close to resuming
my cycle. As in, my reproductive cycle! And I know we haven’t really done the ‘how many kids do you want?’ conversation, seeing as you and I never, ever, ever considered the prospect of having kids anyway. I mean you vamp, me slayer – zero plus zero usually equals zero, right? But one crazy Hellmouth battle later, and it’s you ex-vamp, me one-slayer-among-many – virile plus fertile equals possible unplanned pregnancy 2.0. Hence the condom, at least until the mini pill Cat prescribed me kicks in. And for the record, I’d be happy with two or three. But I’d definitely like a bit of a gap, and maybe a chance to get the next apocalypse out of the way so that I’m not out fighting in a maternity smock.”
Spike sat through Buffy’s entire monologue uncharacteristically quietly. Words were however fairly superfluous, his expressions clearly portraying feelings of confusion, understanding, pride and determination.
“Right pet, best we get on with dinner then. What do you fancy?”
“Well, see, there’s something wrong with my menu. They must have thought I looked foreign, cos they’ve given me one written in French or German or Culinese!!” She leaned across the table, whispering dolefully, before settling into a pout, “I can’t read it!”
“Okay my love, how about starting with the lobster and then trying the lamb. I’ll have the scallops and then the beef so that we can try a little of one another’s. How does that sound?”
“It sounds yummy. Oh, and by the way, I've got a whole box of those little packages in my handbag. And did I mention they’re ribbed and dotted for extra stimulation.”
Spike’s mouth had dropped open again and his eyes had glazed over. Suddenly he snapped to, clearing his throat and catching the waiter’s eye.
“Scuse mate,” Spike called out, stuffing the contents of his left hand into his pocket as he waved the menu around with his right. “We’re ready to order. On a bit of a tight schedule here. There’s a few extra bob in it if you can hurry our meals through.”
Buffy grinned contentedly. She had a gorgeous baby boy, who was hopefully sound asleep at home in bed, a delicious, sexy partner who adored her and she was about to be served a scrumptious four star meal. It was hands down her best Valentine’s Day ever!
Xander pushed his plate away, his nervous stomach unable to do justice to the expensive meal laid out before him. That was certainly a first, Xander Harris turning away food. But the succulent looking sirloin steak could have just as easily been a Big Mac for all his over stressed senses knew.
He’d started the night off fine, the short trip north to Edenbridge speeding by as he and Rowan chatted about her upcoming exam. But the closer they’d got to their destination, the more nervous he’d become.
Xander had really stepped outside his comfort zone with the organisation of the evening’s events. To be honest, he’d never had much of a romantic streak, nor success in trying to express himself as a modern day Valentino. Anya had done all the chasing in their relationship, and the few times they’d dined at fancy restaurants had been at her bidding and/or organisation.
He could have asked one of the others for advice, Spike or even Giles, both of whom seemed to have more wherewithal with the ladies than he’d ever had (and wasn’t that a sad state of affairs, that a crusty old bachelor and a formally toothless vampire could no doubt, out-woo him with one arm tied behind their backs), but to be honest he’d wanted to keep the details to himself, reluctant to sketch out his plans for fear of accidentally letting slip the big finale. And no-one was getting any inkling of that before he was ready for the big reveal
They’d arrived at the restaurant a little early, only to be told that their table wasn’t quite ready, but they were welcome to have a drink in the wine bar while they waited. Which would have been fine, except that some large, noisy, flamboyant Italian family, who were obviously oblivious to the romantic inclinations of the evening’s more traditional patrons, had commandeered the bar for their own celebrations. Which were noisy. And flamboyant.
The only table he could find was a little too close for comfort to the partying Italians. He’d stood, alternately staring at it, then looking around the room hopelessly, for several minutes, until Rowan had edged up against his chest.
“What’s the matter sweetheart?” she asked sweetly.
“Nothing. Ah, do you think this will be alright?”
“Of course. Its perfect.”
And so they’d squeezed into the little wrought iron chairs, and Xander had ordered a cranberry juice for Rowan and a beer for himself and they’d tried to have some sort of sweet, romantic conversation while they waited. But he’d been so nervous and uptight that it was almost a relief when a middle-aged Italian chap waltzed across the room, his excitable chatter filling the awkward silence as he waved his bottle of red wine in the direction of their glasses.
“Ah, young lovers! Come, come, join us. For is this not the night for love, both old and new. Ah, Maria, come meet these young innamorati. What a handsome couple si? Here she is, this is mia amata, Maria. Tonight we have been lovers for thirty years si? And so we celebrate.”
“Oh you old fool. Stop embarrassing me, and yourself.” She’d turned to Xander and Rowan. “Scuse, I’m Maria, and what my foolish husband Tony is trying to say is that tonight is our thirtieth wedding anniversary.”
“Oh, well, congratulations,” Rowan had laughed gaily, “I’m Rowan and this is my boyfriend Xander.”
“Have a drink with us,” Tony had boomed, waving the wine bottle towards them once more.
“Oh no, I can’t,” Rowan smiled, pushing her chair out and patting her nicely rounded stomach. The old chap, Tony, peered down at her, pausing while he put two and two together.
“Oh ho, un bambino si?” He’d chuckled and slapped Xander on the back. “I see you have been practicing already.”
“Oh be quiet you buffone,” Maria had admonished Tony with a cuff to the back of his head. She’d turned back to Rowan, a gentle smile and a pair of twinkling eyes gracing her expressive face. “Congratulations my dear, to both of you. We’ll leave you to your evening in peace. Come on il vecchio, come remind your wife why I’ve put up with you for so long.” With a wave and another smile they’d shuffled away.
They’d finished their drinks in peace, if not quiet, but funnily enough, the interruption had served to relax Xander enough to enjoy the conversation he and Rowan had shared.
Once they’d been called through to the dining room though, his nerves had returned with a vengeance. They’d been shown to a small table tucked away in a quiet corner, perfect for the task at hand, but also a reminder of the importance and gravity of the occasion. Trying to calm his racing heart, he’d decided to leave the deed until after dinner and had smiled at Rowan awkwardly and set about ordering something from the menu. What exactly he’d be hard pushed to recall, his mind a million miles from the restaurant’s no doubt excellent fare.
Finally, he decided he’d delayed things for as long as he could, and pushing his half eaten meal away from him, he took Rowan’s hand in his own. She looked a little startled by his action, but smiled up at him nonetheless.
“So first off I want to say Happy Valentines Day,” Xander began, “And then I want to add that you look gorgeous tonight. And that you are an amazing woman, kind, caring, brilliant, talented and sexy. Very sexy.” He paused, a boyish grin crossing his lips as he eyed Rowan’s pregnancy-enhanced cleavage. He gulped; fumbling in his pocket for the box he’d shoved there earlier that evening. Although he’d imagined the scene plenty of times, he hadn’t actually worked out what he was going to say, and as such, immediately began to ramble.
“I’ve done this once before you know,” he muttered, “But experience doesn’t make the act any less terrifying.” Xander paused, startled by Rowan’s gasp of surprise, shaken out of his musing enough to drag his eyes away from the ring box and up to lock with her own teary gaze. He grinned wryly. “But sweetheart, I think this time, as much as I loved Anya, God bless her, I’m in a much better space to be asking my true love to share my life with me. Last time, part of me thought my life might be over before the night ended, and going out as an engaged man at least seemed a little more worthy than as a hopeless bachelor.
But Rowan, not only do I love you with everything I have, but my life is so perfect at the moment, the only thing I can think of that would make it better would be to have you agree to spend the rest of our lives together. I want you by my side, and I want to be by yours, welcoming our little one into the world together, sharing our good times with our family and friends, and having one another’s backs during the spooky stuff.
So, Rowan McNair, you're already the love of my life, now will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” Wrestling with the wrapping on the little red leather box, he flicked the snap open and held the ring out towards her.
Rowan stared down at the ring, a rich, and glossy, oval shaped tiger’s eye, set atop a split shank gold band and nestled amongst dozens of brilliant diamonds. Her mouth dropped open as she reached towards the gorgeous and unique piece of jewellery, tugging it out of its box and slipping it onto her finger as if in a daze. She gazed down at her splayed hand, mesmerised by how the gemstones caught the play of light.
“Ah, so is that a yes?” Xander’s husky, anxiety-riven voice drew Rowan’s attention back to her boyfriend. He was grey and almost shaking from the stress of her delayed response.
“Well, considering that you spent over half of your proposal to me talking about your ex-fiancée, I should just make you suffer a little longer. But, I don’t think I could wait a moment longer myself. So yes Xander, of course I’ll marry you, you big lummox.”
“Oh, thank God.” He leaned over the table and grabbed Rowan’s hand, pulling her to her feet and around the table to sit on his knee, where he proceeded to smother her in kisses. Even tucked away in the corner as they were, the very discrete scene they created was telling enough to be spotted by Tony’s eagle eye. Still wrapped up in one another, neither Rowan nor Xander noticed the gregarious Italian gent until he was right alongside them. Of course Rowan’s dazzling new ring immediately caught his attention, seemingly confirming what he’d suspected as he’d dashed across the room.
“Ah ha, so its congratulazioni to our young innamorati si? You are fidanzato sì? Ah, so you have decided to make an honest man of your pirate signorina?”
Rowan laughed delightedly at the old man’s jest. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but yes, I’ve accepted his proposal.”
“Bene, bene. It is a good match. There is much amore here. I think you will be very, very happy.” His eyes filled with tears, even through his wide grin. “As happy as my Maria and I.” With that he took a step back, and raised his glass of wine along with his voice. “Il brindisi to the young lovers. Congratulazioni on the promises they make to one another.”
Maria, and the rest of her and Tony’s family and friends had drifted over to Xander and Rowan’s table during Tony’s announcement. Far from the awkwardness and mild irritation he’d felt earlier at the old guy’s teasing, Xander now reveled in it, puffing out his chest with pride and clear delight at being an engaged man. The couple gracefully accepted everyone’s hearty congratulations, nodding earnestly as Maria excused her husband’s interference by remarking on his sentimental and romantic nature.
“He loves me, his children and the rest of his family with all his heart, and would do anything for anyone of us. To Tony, family is at the center of his universe, and we love him for his devotion. I hope you are so lucky with your own lives.”
Rowan exchanged one last hug with Maria, and watched her walk away before turning to look imploringly at Xander.
“I know we were going to order dessert, but I think I’d like to go home right away. I want to share our news with our family and friends, as soon as we can.”
Xander pulled her towards him, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, before whispering, “I love you sweetheart. Let’s get going,” into her ear.
Stopping to pay, Xander had a quick conversation with the owner, who smiled, nodded and came back with an entire uncut slab of Tiramisu dessert to add to the bill.
“Instant engagement cake to share with the gang he grinned at his delighted fiancée.”
She nodded and sighed happily, holding the door open for the dessert carrying Xander and trailing him out to their car. It had truly been a Valentines Day to remember, one that they hoped they’d be able to share with their own family and friends in thirty years time. Now it was time to head back to Ashdown, to the people they called family, to share the love and joy that was bubbling over inside of her. It was time to head home.