Connectivity

by Aven Ellis

  But I will never move on from him.

  I love him. I wish I could have told him that as I gaze into his eyes instead of here in a blog. But I love him with every fiber of my being. I will always love him, even when he chooses to love someone else.

  Always,

  MK

  I feel my tears splashing down my cheeks. I swallow against the lump in my throat and I push my iPad aside.

  It really is over. I have lost William, and there is nothing I can say to get him back.

  I grab one of my throw pillows and clutch it to my stomach, letting the tears fall freely. How do I go on? How can I love anybody but William? No, I can’t. I just can’t imagine—

  Suddenly my phone beeps.

  I wipe my hand over my eyes and pick up my phone.

  It is a text message.

  From William.

  My heart explodes inside my chest. I begin to shake. I see a picture of my apartment building, taken from across the street.

  I am here. WC

  Chapter 33

  I am here. WC

  I read the words over and over. My God, could it be true? William is here?

  I throw my phone aside, bolt from my room, and run frantically into the living room. I sprint to the window, which overlooks the street below. I hold my breath as I push the curtain aside, desperate to see if my prayers have been answered.

  And they have.

  William is pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, the light from the street lamp illuminating his black suit in the darkness.

  He stops pacing and tilts his head upward, right toward my window. Tears fall from my eyes as I see his gorgeous face, highlighted by the full moon overhead.

  And then he sees me.

  I race from my apartment, my heart pounding inside my chest. I run down the flights of stairs, throw open the building door, and stop on the front step.

  William is halfway up my sidewalk, dashing toward me.

  He instantly stops the second I appear. His eyes meet mine. And the second they do, I fall apart.

  “William!” I cry, running down the stairs toward him. I throw myself into his arms and desperately clutch on to him, silently vowing to never, ever let him go again.

  I am sobbing, utterly sobbing, as I feel his arms wrap around me and hold me close. I hear William’s heart pounding against my ear. I inhale the pine scent of his ivory skin, and I feel his hands on my back, my hair, just keeping me as close as he can to his body.

  “I am . . . I am . . .” I try to get the words out, but I am so overwhelmed I cannot speak.

  “Darling,” William says, his voice very thick. “Please, Mary-Kate. Please. Everything is going to be all right now.”

  “No, no,” I cry, tightening my grip on his arms, almost as if I am afraid he will let me go. “It’s not! I . . . I was . . . I was . . .”

  William eases me back and I am stunned to see his eyes are watery, too.

  “We,” he says, voice hoarse with emotion, “were both wrong. Both of us, darling. We apparently are not very good at fighting.”

  His face dissolves through my tears. I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head, needing to pull myself together so I can speak the words he needs to hear.

  “I was so scared you were going to leave me,” I manage to get out, reaching for his dark waves and stroking them gently. “I always react strongly when I am upset, William. And nothing on this earth upsets me more than the idea of losing you. Of a life without you. I couldn’t cope. I couldn’t think. I ran out to clear my head, and once I thought everything out, I knew I had made a horrible mistake.”

  I pause for a moment, and gaze into the expressive blue eyes that are filled with unshed tears. “I love you, William. I have never loved anyone but you. And I am . . .” I swallow hard, pushing down the lump that has formed in my throat. “I am so sorry I hurt the only person I have ever loved.”

  A single tear rolls down William’s face, and I brush it away with my fingertips.

  “Mary-Kate,” William says, his voice a whisper. “You are the only woman I have ever wanted. You are the only one I have ever loved. You made me believe in love, Mary-Kate. And all the things you found . . . were part of my plan to build a future with you. To build a future with the only woman that has ever mattered.”

  He strokes his hands through my hair and stares deeply into my eyes. “Once you had your career job set, I bought a ticket to go back to London. To wrap things up. Mary-Kate, I was going to move here to be with you. I didn’t know how long it would take, so I didn’t book the return, but I was ready to come back to Chicago and make a home with you.”

  I tremble as I realize everything he was going to give up for me.

  “Wh-what?” I ask, my eyes frantically searching his. “You . . . you were going to leave London?”

  William nods and slides his hands around my waist. “You are an American, Mary-Kate. You’ve never lived abroad. I have. I know what a challenge it can be, and I would never want you to resent me for making you move from the only home you have never known. And I put the penthouse on the market so we could find a home together and make it ours. Because you are my future, Mary-Kate. You are my life. I love you, and I am willing to do anything to make us work. I do not have a life without you, Mary-Kate. I will not have a life without you in it.”

  When I realize how much I mean to him, how much William was going to sacrifice to love me, I begin out and out bawling.

  “Shhhhh,” William says, drawing me against his chest. “It is all right, Mary-Kate. I should have told you all of that the second you got upset. I was wrong, so wrong, darling, not to do so. Please forgive me. Please say you can.”

  I step back from him. “Only if you forgive me, too, William.”

  William presses his forehead to mine. Our hands entwine together. “I love you,” he whispers to me.

  “I love you, too,” I whisper back.

  And then his mouth meets mine in the most gentle, caressing, loving kiss I have ever known.

  As we continue to kiss on the sidewalk, the noises of the city disappearing into the night. I now know, without a doubt, the man I love is my present and future and always will be.

  William breaks the kiss and I stare up at him.

  “William, I can’t let you move to Chicago,” I say quietly.

  William looks stricken. “What?”

  “You are English. England is your home. The Shard, Connectivity Headquarters, Mayfair,” I say, shaking my head. “England has your heart, William. It is your heart and soul.”

  “No. You have my heart and soul, Mary-Kate,” he says firmly. “I don’t care where I am as long as I am with you.”

  “I can’t take you away from London. I won’t do that,” I say firmly. “But I will move there to be with you.”

  William’s eyes take in my words. “Darling, you don’t know what it will be like. The things you’ll miss. Your family is here, you’ve only known Milwaukee and Chicago.”

  I put my fingertips over his full lips to stop him from speaking. “I want to make my life in England. With you. The man I love. I can write from anywhere, William. And for me, home is back in Mayfair with you.”

  William glances away for a moment and swallows. His eyes fill with unshed tears. “I love you.”

  “I love you more,” I say, breaking a smile.

  William smiles, too. “Claire says we need to learn how to fight like normal people.”

  I let out a loud laugh. “She’s right. But I need to let you be quiet and broody,” I say, toying with a button on his white dress shirt.

  “And I need to let you blow up and storm off,” William says, sliding his arms around my waist. “I can do that. As long as you always promise to come home to me.”

 
“I promise,” I say with all my heart. “I will always come home to you, William. Always.”

  We kiss again, and I have never felt such joy and completeness in my heart as I do right now.

  William breaks the kiss and then draws a breath of air.

  “I have a confession,” William says, stroking my face. “I was planning to come back to you before I read your blog. I couldn’t handle being apart from you for 24 hours, let alone a lifetime.”

  I graze my fingertips across his glorious cheekbones. “Is that why you got drunk at Rupert and Claire’s house?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at him.

  “Bloody hell,” William says, laughing. “I got pissed. I ended up sleeping in their living room.”

  “Claire wouldn’t tell me what you said.”

  “Well, from what I remember, she said I was an idiot to have let you go,” William admits. “And I told her I couldn’t live without you and she agreed. So I’d have to say she was right. Rupert married himself a wise woman.”

  “Indeed he did,” I say, thinking of how much Claire had been my only hope this week.

  William clears his throat. “Your blog,” he says quietly, “was the most beautiful thing I have ever read. I don’t know if I am worthy of those words, Mary-Kate.”

  “You, my love, are worthy of every single one,” I say, getting choked up. “I just wish you didn’t have to read them first. I wish I could have told you in person.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” William says. “What matters is that you mean them.”

  “I do,” I say strongly. “I love you.”

  “And I you. I had never wanted anyone until the day I met you, flailing about and stuck in that binder machine. That day I met my destiny,” William says, smiling at me.

  I feel my cheeks burn. “William, why didn’t you think I was a crazy woman? I was cursing and babbling about Full House! I sounded like a lunatic!”

  “No,” William says, rubbing his hands down my back, “You were real. You were passionate and intriguing and the one person who treated me like a normal person. And, by God, you were gorgeous. You know I was not even going to enter that break room until I saw your red hair. I was drawn to you, my darling. And I am so bloody grateful that you were ensnared in that binder machine so I could come rescue you.”

  We both laugh. Then William clears his throat. “But even if there was not a binder machine incident, we would have met another way. I am certain of that fact, Mary-Kate. We were meant to be together.”

  William removes his hands from me and draws another deep breath. “You are my world, Mary-Kate. You are my life. And I cannot ask you for another thing until I ask you this.”

  All of a sudden, William reaches into his jacket pocket. He brings out a velvet box in his hand, and he is getting down on one knee in front of me.

  Oh my God. Oh my God. I begin to shake. Violently.

  “Mary-Kate Grant, I love you. I cannot live without you. I flew to Milwaukee yesterday and talked to your father, darling. And he gave me his blessing to ask you this.”

  William pauses and shows me a huge—and I mean huge—Asscher-cut diamond ring, with smaller diamonds on each side, set in a pave diamond and platinum band.

  “Will you marry me? Will you be my wife, Mary-Kate Grant?”

  I am so stunned I cannot speak.

  William just asked me to marry him.

  I begin to cry. I am so stunned, ‘yes’ will not get past the lump in my throat.

  William waits for a moment. Then I see an anxious look in his beautiful blue eyes. “If . . . if it is too soon, I understand.”

  “No!” I croak.

  The color drains from his face. “No?”

  “No, I mean, no, it is not too soon!” I finally find my voice. “I mean, yes! Yes, yes, yes, William Cumberland. I will marry you! A thousand times yes!”

  And then I am so excited I bend down to hug him, but I trip and we both go sprawling across the sidewalk, my ring box flying into the grass.

  “Oh my God, my ring!” I scream, crawling on my hands and knees into the grass.

  William roars with laughter. “Darling, I know you. It is fully insured.”

  “William Cumberland, that is so not funny!”

  William gets up. He calmly strolls past me and picks up the box. He then plops down onto the grass next to me, takes out the ring, and holds it in his hand.

  “Let’s try this again,” William says, his eyes shining in delight. “Mary-Kate Grant, will you please marry me?”

  “Yes,” I say, smiling as I hold out my hand. “I will.”

  William slides the gorgeous ring onto my finger. Then we kiss in the grass in front of my apartment building in Lincoln Park.

  William runs his hands through my hair, caressing it, and kissing me slowly and sweetly.

  “I am so happy,” I whisper against his lips.

  “Me, too,” William whispers back.

  I break the kiss and cup his face in my hands. Then I raise my hand to study my amazing ring, my gorgeous, huge, stunning vintage-inspired ring. My God, it is just a huge rock. I wonder—

  “You want to know how many carats, don’t you?” William asks, grinning at me wickedly.

  I blush furiously. “Yes,” I admit.

  “Six. I stopped in New York first to get it,” William says, leaning back on his palms in the grass. “Why do you think it took me so long to get here? I had to go to Kwiat in New York to get the ring—”

  “You . . . you flew to New York just for my ring?”

  “They have exquisite rings,” William says. “I wanted something absolutely fitting for the woman who is going to be my wife.”

  My eyes fill with tears again. “I love you.”

  William smiles. “I love you. So I was in New York getting the ring, then I flew to Milwaukee to talk to your father . . . That is why I had Claire keep talking to you. I didn’t want to see or text you until I was ready to propose.”

  I stare at my ring and then at him, and think about how much thought William had put into what he was going to do tonight. Not only to make things right between us, but to make me his wife. He went the traditional route, even flying to Milwaukee just to get my father’s permission to ask for my hand.

  To make me his wife.

  “I am going to be your wife!” I cry excitedly, the full force of it hitting me. “I am going to be the mother of your children!”

  William’s entire face lights up. “Just promise me you won’t crash the pushchair when you are taking them around, all right, darling?”

  “William, it is called a stroller and of course I won’t!” I declare. Then I laugh. “Rather, I will try my best not to.”

  We both laugh.

  “So when are we getting married?” William asks.

  I think about that for a moment. “Well, I cannot upstage Michelle,” I say slowly. “A year from now? June?”

  “That sounds most appropriate,” William says. “Where?”

  “Mayfair, of course,” I say. “That is where we are going to build our life.”

  William cocks an eyebrow. “We could marry at St. George’s in Hanover Square. Is the Church of England all right with you?”

  I touch his face. “You know I am all right with it.”

  He sits up and brings my hand to his lips, kissing it. “Reception at Claridge’s?”

  I feel giddy at the thought. I’m getting married in England. In an historic English Church. With a reception at one of the most posh hotels in the city.

  “Yes. Absolutely yes, I find that most appropriate.”

  “Now, children. How about five?” William asks.

  I furrow my brow. “Two. I only want two.”

  “Bossy American,” William declares, laugh
ing.

  “Two,” I repeat firmly, grinning at him.

  “Three.”

  I laugh loudly. “You are a badass negotiator, William Cumberland. Okay, I will agree to three.”

  “Speaking of children,” William says slowly, a wicked gleam entering his eyes, “We have a whole year to practice for them.”

  I smile. “So do you think it is most appropriate that we go home and get started on our homework?”

  William laughs, that deep down from his soul laugh that made my breath catch the first time I heard it, as it does right now.

  He stands up and extends his hand to me. I take it, and he pulls me up and into his arms. “Yes, I find that most appropriate, darling. Let’s get your things and go home.”

  I wrap my hand around William’s, and walk with him up the steps to my apartment.

  I have never known there could be joy like this. Love like this. I am going to have a husband who completes me, brings out the best in me, inspires me, and makes me the happiest woman on earth.

  The candle we lit is burning bright, and will do so for the rest of our lives.

  I glance at his profile, that of my beautiful English man, and sigh happily.

  Perfect Connectivity indeed.

  Epilogue

  Six Years Later

  The Cumberland Residence, London

  I pick up my tasting spoon and test the tikka masala sauce. Perfect. I put the spoon into my sink and gaze out the window. It is a cloudy and cold October day, and this curry will be perfect for dinner tonight—warm and spicy and comforting.

  I go to my iPad and adjust my notes on the recipe. I have finally perfected my own version of tikka masala and for sure I want it to go into the cookbook.

  Cookbook. That is just crazy, but I am in the process of writing my first book! A publisher offered me a deal to write a cookbook with recipes and stories based off my blog, The Bossy American—Life Across the Pond with my Dashing British Husband.