by Mae Wood
“Altitude getting to you?” she laughed and pushed off ahead of me toward the top of the run.
“No, the kids’ book—Mr. Popper’s Penguins,” I explained, picking up speed to catch her. “When my kids were little they loved that story and we changed it to Mr. Popov’s Penguins and, somehow, they became my penguins. I haven’t called them that for years, but we’ve got four. Four tired and potentially hungover penguins. I hate to break it to you, though, but we’re not getting married up here.”
I unclipped my bindings, pulled off my goggles, and reached into an inside pocket of my ski jacket until I found what I’d been carefully keeping from her for a week now. I’d almost asked last night while we were curled up in front of the fire and while the kids were out being young. But I didn’t. I couldn’t break away from the moment of perfect happiness and comfort to go dig the ring out of my coat pocket. Now I was glad I hadn’t. Because if she was going to say no, I’d rather her crush me where my kids might not walk in and see the aftermath.
I fell to a knee in the snow at the edge of the trail. “We’re not getting married up here,” I repeated. “But I am hoping you’ll agree to marry me.”
She didn’t respond. “Amy, sweetie, pull off your goggles so I can see you.” She reached up and pulled them down around her neck. Her green eyes were shining and that smile I lived for, it was the best I’d ever seen. “Amy, I love you. Please marry me.”
A small crowd had started to gather and gawk and she remained frozen in place, tears falling but a big grin telling the world that she was happy and the furiously nodding head telling me that she was mine. And that I was hers. I was regretting it some. This private moment in such a public space. But she’d liked the John Cusack thing in her driveway so much and though she’d never said it, I knew she hadn’t had a real proposal the first time around. I might not be the first man she’d marry, but I was going to be the one who did it right.
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Acknowledgments
Writing a novel is a marathon. Complete with the hours of hard work at ungodly hours. For those of you who suggested that I sign up for this particular marathon. For those who made sure I showed up and didn’t sleep in–Kim and Beth. For those who kept me fed and hydrated–Hubs, Mom, Dad, Kiddo, Babe, Ben. For those who looked at my form and told me how to improve–Maggie Jane, Emily, Becca. For those who cheer along the course–Jess, Kenysha, Amanda, Michelle, Natasha, Mila, Robyn, the Jaimes, Dawn, Angela, Kim, Marnie, Cai, Stephanie, Meggie, Susan, Lori, Emily, Candy, Dee, Deedy, Misty, Celeste, Aerin, Alyssa, Jen, Jessica, Katharine, Samantha, Tasha, Julie, Jodi, Chloe, Phylis, Holly, Helen, Karin, and all of the diners at Pig and Barley. For those who run with me – Kate, Donna, Tess, Hilaria, Zeia, Eli, Anne, Staci, Emma, all the Minxes, and my friends from Indie Tea. For those who are reading these words. To you all, I am indebted. Thank you.
About the Author
Mae Wood is a mommy, bookworm, and lawyer (in that order).
A while ago Mae decided that she needed to give up the fear that she couldn’t write “great literature” and write what she wants to read.
And she wants romance. And laughter.
She wants heroines who are brave. Brave enough to be themselves and brave enough to fall in love.
She wants men who are strong and kind.
Mae lives in the Southeastern United States with her husband, two children, and a Samoyed who likes to nap at her feet while she writes.