Chapter 9 - The Promise on the Water
Three months later. August in the Hamptons.
The afternoon sun was blazing hot over the blue waters of Sag Harbor.
A eighty-foot motor yacht—named The Sea Star— lay anchored two miles off the coast, rocking gently in the warm ocean swells.
On the teak aft deck, Samuel and Sophia were wearing small orange life jackets, laughing hysterically as they sprayed each other with plastic water pistols under the watchful, smiling eye of Victoria Sterling, who was lounging in a deck chair with a glass of iced tea.
At the bow of the yacht, leaning against the polished stainless steel handrail, stood Anna.
She was wearing a simple yellow sundress that danced in the sea breeze, her golden hair loose over her shoulders, her skin tanned a warm, radiant bronze.
I walked up behind her, carrying two chilled glasses of lemonade, and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest.
She leaned into my touch with the effortless, deep familiarity of a woman who knew she was safe.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked, resting my chin on her shoulder.
"I was thinking about a pink sneaker," she murmured, a small, beautiful smile touching her lips as she looked out over the endless blue water.
"A pink sneaker?"
"The one Sophia dropped on your marble floor ten months ago," she said, turning her head to kiss my cheek. "The night I thought my life was over. The night I thought we were going to end up in a shelter in Queens."
"It wasn't the end of your life, Anna," I said softly, reaching into my linen trousers pocket and pulling out a small, navy velvet box. "It was just the beginning of ours."
Anna froze. Her breath hitched in her throat as I stepped around her, dropping to one knee on the teak deck beneath the bright afternoon sun.
I opened the velvet box.
Inside lay a flawless five-carat emerald-cut diamond, set in a band of polished platinum—simple, timeless, and indestructible.
"Arthur..." she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, her green eyes instantly brimming with bright, happy tears.
"Anna Silva," I said, my voice steady, filled with a deep, unshakeable devotion that echoed across the quiet water. "Ten months ago, you walked into my suite with two children and no options. Today, I’m asking you to give me the only option I’ll ever need for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"
She didn't hesitate for a single second.
She dropped to her knees right in front of me on the deck, threw her arms around my neck, and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of sea salt, sunshine, and pure, unadulterated joy.
"Yes," she wept happily against my lips. "Yes! A thousand times yes, Arthur!"
From the aft deck, a sudden, wild cheer erupted.
Sophia and Samuel came running down the teak gangway, their tiny orange life jackets bobbing as they threw themselves against us, wrapping their small arms around our legs.
"Are we getting married?!" Sophia squeaked, her face bright with excitement. "Do I get to wear a yellow dress?!"
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I laughed—a deep, booming laugh that echoed out over the ocean—and lifted both children into my arms, pulling Anna close against my side as we stood together at the bow of the ship.
"Yes, little one," I said, kissing Sophia’s forehead, then kissing Samuel’s cheek, and finally pressing my forehead against Anna’s. "We're all getting married."
