You Can’t Hurry Love. Portia MacIntosh
in next to him and close my eyes.
I exhale deeply as I wait for Leo out on the decking. When we woke up this morning he told me we were going for a walk, so I scraped my hair back up on top of my head, slipped on my scruffy outfit from last night and sleepily made my way outside to wait for him.
My attention flits between admiring the ocean, playing with the sand with my toes, and picking off the remains of my blue nail polish as I wait for Leo to appear.
‘Look at you,’ I squeak as he steps outside. ‘You look amazing and I look like trash.’
Leo laughs.
‘You look great – you always look great,’ he tells me in a way that makes it sound like a reminder, rather than a general compliment.
‘But you’re dressed up,’ I point out.
His hair is perfectly blown back, he’s wearing a crisp white shirt and he smells delicious, like the Creed aftershave I bought him for Christmas that he usually reserves for special occasions.
Leo smiles that devastating smile of his. I am weak for his dimples, even after all this time.
‘Come on, let’s go for a walk,’ he says, taking me by the hand.
It’s a beautiful morning, like something fresh off a postcard. The beach is clear, the sea is calm and the weather is just right. It’s not too hot yet, although it’s set to be a scorcher later today. Were it not for my mum’s compulsory lunch, I could’ve got the tan my body so desperately needs.
‘It’s a shame we can’t stay longer,’ Leo says with a sigh. ‘You deserve a break. It might help with your stress.’
‘I know,’ I reply. ‘We’ll take a proper holiday soon, when all our money isn’t being spent on the house.’
‘I know it’s taking a lot of time and a lot of work,’ he starts, ‘but it’s going to be worth it.’
‘I know,’ I reply. I do know – it’s just taking so much time and money and effort, I kind of wish we’d carried on renting a little while longer.
‘I know work is stressing you out too.’ Leo stops and turns to face me, suddenly adopting a much more serious tone. ‘But you’re happy, aren’t you? With life and with me?’
‘Of course I am,’ I say, placing my hands on his gorgeous face. ‘Yes, the house is a mess. Yes, work is difficult at the moment. But none of that alters the fact that I love you so much.’
‘Good,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘That’s good.’
‘Good,’ I echo.
Leo looks at me for a second, then he smiles. I wish I could tell what was going on in his head. He isn’t always the kind of guy to broadcast his feelings, so I’ll often resort to guessing what’s going on in there. Of course, being the anxious type, my brain always assumes things are much worse than they are.
Suddenly, Leo crouches down on the floor.
‘What are you doing?’ I laugh.
‘Mia Valentina,’ he says, pausing to puff air from his cheeks.
‘Yes,’ I reply in a goofy voice.
Everything clicks in my head a split second before he pulls a ring box from his pocket.
‘Whoa, what are you doing?’ I laugh.
‘Something I should have done a long time ago.’
Leo, who it turns out is down on one knee and not just crouching on the sand, opens the ring box to reveal a silver and rose-gold engagement ring with a big, beautiful, colourful opal stone – my favourite. Is there anything that feels as wonderful as when you realise a man actually listens to you when you’re just babbling about things that aren’t important, like what your favourite stone is?
‘I’ve known I loved you since the second I laid eyes on you four years ago. You’re the most amazing, most interesting, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I can’t believe I haven’t asked this sooner. Will you marry me?’
‘Yes!’ I squeak instantly, without even pausing for thought.
An instant but cautious smile appears on his face.
‘Are you sure?’ he asks.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ I reply, pulling him up from the ground.
Leo slips the ring on my finger before kissing me, grabbing me in his big, strong arms and twirling me around.
Mia from four years ago might have thought marriage was stupid but Mia now just loves Leo so much. It had crossed my mind, just every now and then, what I’d say if he asked, but I never really gave it too much thought. We’d mentioned marriage, but I’d never been able to imagine him pulling the trigger. But now he’s popped the question and it’s the easiest question I’ve ever had to answer.
‘Your folks are going to be over the moon – that’s why your mum is making a special lunch, you know, to celebrate,’ he confesses.
Thank God I didn’t make a scene over the fact we were being summoned for lunch today.
‘That’s very sweet of her,’ I say. ‘And confident.’
‘She knew you’d say yes,’ he tells me. ‘So did I.’
‘Is this why you were so quiet last night?’ I ask, suddenly feeling a lot better about the fact he didn’t want to have sex with me.
‘Yeah.’ He laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. ‘Last-minute nerves.’
I smile widely as I stare down at my ring.
‘This is just… incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it,’ I beam.
‘It’s an Ethiopian fire opal,’ he tells me. ‘It was handmade. There are real little diamonds in the band, but I remember you telling me that opals were your favourite.’
‘I did,’ I say with a smile. I can’t believe he listened and remembered. ‘I just wish you’d given me some warning. I would have made sure I looked less… like a tramp.’
‘Mia, you look great. I’ve never seen you look anything less than great. Even when we’re 80, I’ll still see you as my blonde, bikini-dropping bombshell.’
‘When we’re 80, neither of us will be able to pick up dropped bikinis,’ I reply.
‘Good,’ he replies cheekily.
As we approach the beach house back door, I let go of Leo’s hand.
‘Listen, I’m going to go and smarten up and repaint my nails because if any photos are taken to remember this special day, I don’t want to be looking like this in them,’ I say, pointing down.
‘OK,’ Leo replies, grabbing me for one last kiss. ‘You go get changed and then we’ll tell everyone the good news together.’
‘OK,’ I reply. ‘Won’t be long.’
‘OK, fiancée,’ he calls after me jokily.
I can’t help but grin, like the Cheshire Cat that got the cream.
I reach the top of the stairs and slowly make my way towards our bedroom. Thankfully, although I didn’t have time to paint my nails before we left, I did have the foresight to chuck a bottle of deep-purple varnish into my make-up bag, with the intention of hopefully painting over the chipped blue stuff at some point. This is a move I often pull, to save time. In fact, under the chipped blue polish is chipped red polish that I covered with blue. The blue will cover with this dark purple shade but after that the only colour that will save the day is black, and when that looks messy I’ll have to