Seven Months Later

I sat in front of the mirror in our bedroom. I’d already brushed my red curls to a manageable situation and put on my lip-gloss. I was ready to go. We were going to the local farmer’s market, as we did on most Sundays since we moved to Lake Geneva.

I could hear Michael out on the porch, fixing a loose floorboard on the step. My phone was in my hand. I’d just finished reading an email. I was happy. I realized I was content. I read the email again.

Dear Aria,

I just wanted to write to you to tell you how happy we all are. You and Michael have built a lovely home together and we were delighted to visit you last weekend. Thank you for bringing our son closer to us again. We all look forward to many more of these family visits. Michael’s father and I could not be more proud of him for having chosen such a lovely woman to share his life with.

Take care of yourselves and do visit us soon. We look forward to having you over.

Yours lovingly,

Samantha Sole

It was strange how drastically my life had changed in the past months. I could still remember that day at Michael’s office when I was going through his emails. I’d pictured an older lady writing to her son. I had tried to imagine their faces and how close they were as a family. Last week, I’d witnessed it for myself.

My parents’ divorce and the fact that I hadn’t seen them since suddenly didn’t hurt so much. It felt to me like I had a new family – one that loved me as much as I was growing to love them. Now that I’d met the rest of the Soles, I could see their bond and their love with my own eyes.

Michael belonged here in a town like this. He was meant to be fixing our house and tending to our garden . . . just like his father did. In the past seven months since we moved to Lake Geneva, I had seen a change in him. He was happier, less stressed, and more relaxed in this world.

Even when he sold his company, it didn’t trouble him. I had hoped that it wouldn’t affect him too drastically, giving up the thing he’d build with his own hands. It didn’t. Michael seemed happy to do it. He seemed happy to be giving up the life that had changed him. These days, he worked with small local startups and businesses as a volunteer advisor.

He had already made all the money he would need to last a lifetime. I had my job at the school. His mother was right: we’d built a sweet, comfortable life for ourselves here. What was more there to want?

He opened the door and walked into our bedroom.

“Hey, ready to go? Those mango chutneys will fly off the shelves like last week.” He came up behind me and kissed the top of my head. I looked up at him – at his strong jaw and roughly chiseled features. I would never meet a more handsome man in my life. I knew that now.

“You and your mango chutneys!” I laughed and stood up so I could throw my arms around his neck.

“It’s not for me. It’s for Suzy and Clara. They need to try it!” he exclaimed, hugging me tightly. My best friends were visiting us in two days with plans of spending a long weekend with us. I hadn’t seen them in over three months, and now we had so much to celebrate!

“Are you looking forward to their visit?” Michael asked, kissing my cheeks. My eyes were bright with happiness. How could I explain it all to him? What I’d felt before he came into my life? How he had changed everything by just being there for me?

“I can’t wait!” I exclaimed. Michael looked happy too. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers, then turned my hand around so he could admire the ring. It was a large teardrop-shaped diamond with sapphires studded around it. The most beautiful ring I’d seen – one he had custom designed and ordered from a celebrity jeweler in France.

When he went down on one knee last week in front of his family and asked me to marry him, I had burst into tears. I hadn’t been expecting it. I had assumed that a man like Michael Sole would need several more months, maybe even years, before he could think of marriage. He’d taken me by surprise. Of course I was going to marry him! Nothing could stop me. He was the man of my dreams . . . of any woman’s dreams. But he belonged to me.

“Do you think they’ve forgiven me now?” he asked. I threw back my head and laughed. It was cute that even after all these months, Michael still worried about what my friends thought of him!

“Yes, Michael. They love you and they’re happy for me. You don’t have to worry about my friends anymore,” I said and kissed him again.

He lifted me up in his arms, carrying me out of the bedroom.

“The only things I worry about are your happiness and the mango chutney,” he replied. We laughed as we left our house. It was going to be the perfect weekend.

 

*****

 

 

THE END