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  My eyes burned. I wasn't sure what to say. "Shane, I—"

  He interrupted me with a kiss. "Shush." The kiss turned from sweet and loving to molten in an instant.

  Shane pulled away first, tugged me toward the island, my island. I shook my head at the thought.

  I owned an island.

  The water level retreated until we were sloshing up onto the hot white sand of the beach. There was a path through the jungle foliage, wide, flat round stones paving the way up the hill, trees arching overhead to filter the sun in shifting bursts of green.

  We strolled hand in hand up the path, birds of all kinds cawing and chirping around us. The path curved away to the right, and when we rounded the bend a house came into view. It was a single-story structure, built into the island to fit between the trees and to conform to the contours of the central hill. It wasn't an intrusive structure, ugly and extravagant. It was lovely, a natural extension of the island, glass walls that slid away to make all four sides open to the air. It was a multi-level, rambling building, sprawling across the entire crown of the island and descending down around the apron of the hill.

  Shane led me through a pair of wide French doors at the bottom of the house and into an airy, spacious foyer. I recognized the entryway I had designed myself, from a magazine. There was a round, brass-framed sunburst mirror on one wall, an eccentric, dangling-crystal chandelier on the ceiling, Spanish-style mosaic tiles underfoot.

  "Everything is exactly how you designed it," Shane said, leading me from room to room. "Remember all those 'hypothetical discussions' about how you would design and decorate a house?"

  I remembered. When we first moved in to our condo, I was a little irritated that I hadn't had any say in how it was decorated or anything, so Shane had then spent every night before bed for weeks grilling me on how I'd decorate my house. He'd shown me magazine after magazine with kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, living rooms...making me choose what I liked the best. He'd said he was just making notes for later, eventually.

  He swept an arm at the house in general. "Every tile you chose, every mirror and light fixture, every stick of furniture. The only things I chose were little things, door knobs and cabinet handles and things like that. It's all state of the art, completely green. Central computer system, accessible from every room, controlling the lights, the water, the ambient temperature. The computer can even close the doorwalls at a touch of a button. Tankless water heater, with the water drawn from the ocean, processed and purified and recycled through a closed loop system."

  He sounded proud of this house, and with good reason. It was incredible. And as he'd said, I recognized everything as what I'd picked out. It all worked perfectly together, modern and sleek, yet warm and homey at the same time.

  There were several bedrooms, each a separate pod on one side of the house, accessible from a central hallway that ringed the hill, with the kitchen and main living area a level above those bedrooms. At the very top was the master bedroom, crowning the hill with a view of the entire island from four open walls, complete with storm shutters.

  He led me into the master bedroom, which was, in a word, stunning. The bed was nestled against a wall, curving into a nook, so that we had views of island on three sides, with the closets and en suite bathroom behind the bed. A deck ran around the walls on all four sides, with a table and chairs in a secluded corner overlooking the hill, with a view of the beach and the rippling blue sea beyond.

  I don't think I breathed through the entire tour. Eventually, Shane sat down with me at the little round table on our deck.

  "There's another building just out of sight on the back side of the island, where the staff lives. There's another path leading to it, lit by automatic tiki torches at night. There's a third path to the dock and the boathouse." Shane took my hands in his and pinned me with an intent, serious gaze. "This is yours, Leo. Whatever happens, this is all yours. The staff that upkeeps the place, including a personal chef, the seaplane and pilot—available in a moment's notice, at a single phone call—the boat in the boathouse, all of it is yours."

  My eyes burned again, and now the tears defied my efforts to choke them back. Shane wasn't given to displays like this. He hated being ostentatious with his wealth. His condo in Royal Oak, Michigan was small, and understated. Even the condo in New York was fairly simple by the standards of the wealthy in Manhattan. This...this was overwhelming. And the fact that it was all mine, not ours, not his, but mine...

  I couldn't handle it. I shook my head, unable to speak.

  "Shane...why? Why all this?"

  "Because I love you. Because you deserve the best." He wiped the tears from my eyes with a thumb. "Now, save your tears, because I have one last thing to show you."

  I took a few long, shuddering breaths, calming myself by effort of will. When I was ready, Shane took me by the hand and led me down a set of stairs from the deck to a path in the jungle.

  "This is a private path," Shane explained, "accessible only from our deck. It leads to my favorite part of the island."

  The path was paved with stones, lined with a handrail on either side and torches at intervals, so that it would be lit at night. The path descended the hill and wound around the side. I oriented myself by the house, and figured that we were on the west side of the island, with the dock and the front door at the south, the boathouse on the east, and the staff quarters at the north.

  The path cut under the hill so the bulk of the island rose above us, the water now mere feet to our left, trees waving tall and green above us, the diamond-glinting expanse of the Caribbean everywhere around us. The path curved away from the island to a tiny isthmus, a narrow spit of land off the main. On it was a gazebo, crafted to fit the dimensions of the isthmus, accessible only by the path, built from the same dark wood as the house. A padded bench ran around the circumference, with a brazier in the center.

  "I've been calling this The Sanctuary," Shane said, as we sat on the bench.

  The constant Caribbean sea breeze ruffled our hair, the scent of brine gentle on the wind, the sun low on the horizon, bathing us in soft orange light.

  "The Sanctuary," I repeated. It was perfect. It was peaceful, a place of absolute solitude. "It's amazing. This is all...just amazing."

  Shane gazed at me. "You really like it?"

  "I never want to leave."

  Shane brushed my cheek with his palm. "You don't have to. I can work from here, most of the time. I've set things up with the board. I'll have to make trips back to the States every so often, of course, but most of my work can be done from here. This island has internet access and satellite TV, so I can attend meetings via the internet. Plus, there's enough extra bedrooms so my parents and yours, plus all our siblings could all stay here with us. "

  I kept quiet, waiting for him to make his real point. He was leading up to something.

  Shane swallowed, hard, his eyes suddenly betraying nerves. I hadn't seen him show nerves even once, not when under gunfire in Sudan, not when facing the board of directors or the press, or celebrities. He was nervous. Why?

  He reached over to one of the benches, lifted the padded seat, revealing a hidden storage space. I couldn't see from my angle, but whatever he picked up was small enough to fit into his palm. He turned back to me, took both my hands in his.

  My eyes suddenly burned, and my heart palpitated wildly in my chest.

  Shane slipped off the bench to one knee in front of me. He lifted his hand, revealing a small black box, open. Nestled in the black velvet was a simple platinum band with a round-cut diamond the size of my thumbnail.

  "Leo...will you marry me?" His voice wavered, caught at the end.

  His hand was trembling, his eyes betraying a welter of emotions, hope, fear, nerves, and above all, love, pure and unadulterated adoration.

  I couldn't speak, couldn't even nod. I was crying, soft silent tears slipping down my cheeks. I moved off the bench to kneel in front of him. I put my hand to his face, cupping the rough stubbl
e in my shaking palm. I drew a deep, shuddering breath and found my voice.

  "Yes, Shane. I love you, so much."

  Shane's breath expelled in a relieved burst and his head slumped for a moment. When he looked at me again, his eyes were shining, wet with unshed tears. He slipped the ring onto my finger, then pressed his lips to mine in a slow, fiery kiss that stole my breath in one moment, and gave it back in the next.

  We stood up together, the huge orange Caribbean sun setting beside us. His arms wrapped around me, my face burrowed against his chest, hearing his heart beating a steady, reassuring beat, in sync with mine, contentment and completion washing through me.

  The End

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