Big Love Abroad Read online

  I couldn't even blink, much less read the email thread. "You...you what?"

  "If I'm going to drag you across Europe, I figured I'd better find something useful for you to do. You've been moping about for months now. You need a job. And I sort of thought teaching literature would be right up your field."

  "You updated my resume?"

  "Rather well, too. Got letters of recommendation for you from all your professors at Oxford and U of M."

  I felt something hot and hard knot in my throat. "Ian, you--you applied for a job at the University of Zurich, as me, without telling me?"

  He frowned. "Yes. I did." He swallowed hard. "I thought you'd be happy. I know I took a bit of liberty, but I did it for you. For us. I can't move to Switzerland without you."

  My eyes stung. "I don't know what to say."

  "Say you'll go."

  Champagne sat untouched in the flutes, bubbling merrily. I took the stem of the flute nearest me, pinching it between thumb and forefinger, spinning it on the spotless white tablecloth. Watched the bubbles stream to the surface.

  "It's an English-speaking position," Ian said. "They know you don't speak French or German, and it's fine. You don't need to. You'll learn, of course. We both will, since I don't speak either language any more than you do. The firm is providing a condo for us, too. It's within walking distance of both the university and my office. I've seen photographs, actually, and it's...stunning. Views of the Alps, the city...it's furnished, as well. And Zurich is supposed to be an incredible city--"

  "Ian?" I cut him off.

  "Yes?"

  "Shut up for a second and let me process this."

  He shut up.

  Did I want to move to Zurich, Switzerland?

  There wasn't much of a question about that, really. I'd go anywhere with Ian. I'd probably live in a hut on some remote Indonesian island, if he asked me to. My consternation came in regarding his hacking my computer and applying, on my behalf, for a teaching position without so much as a 'hey, how do you do.'

  I read through the emails, which included a copy of my resume. Damn. He'd made me sound pretty damn awesome. And, reading over everything he'd put in--which included nothing but the raw truth--I was pretty well qualified to teach lower-level lit. And if it included a shot at taking over as head of the Brit-lit department? Jesus, how perfect.

  A brochure slid into view, informing me of the U-of-Z Ph.D. study program. "You could teach as well as study for your Ph.D., which would put you in pretty perfect position to take over for Professor Mueller. Just...by way of suggestion. You know."

  I studied the brochure. Studied the emails. Studied my own feelings.

  But Ian wasn't done. "Nina?" I looked up at him. "I have one other question."

  He had a black box. Velvet, about two inches square, clamshell. My heart seized, stuttered, and set to pounding. I tried to swallow, but there was a knot in my throat.

  He smiled. Took my left hand in his. Love shone in his pale blue eyes. "Nina Herrera, will you marry me?"

  "Oh my god, Ian."

  "If we're moving to Switzerland together, starting a new life together, I thought maybe we could do so engaged. We could fly our families in to Switzerland, next summer. Get married with the Swiss Alps behind us--"

  "Ian?" I interrupted.

  "Yes, love?"

  "Shut up so I can tell you yes."

  "Oh. Okay. All right. Go ahead."

  Giddiness welled up within me. Bubbled out as a nervous, happy giggle. "I would absolutely love to marry you, and move to Switzerland with you. Yes. God, yes. Please Jesus, yes." Suddenly I was crying as well as laughing.

  Ian slumped back in his chair. "Thank Christ."

  I laughed and reached for his hand. "You didn't think I'd really say no, did you?"

  "I was reasonably sure you'd say yes to everything, but...there's always a seed of doubt."

  "I'd go anywhere with you, Ian."

  "I know." He twisted our palms together, entwined our fingers, and then slid the ring onto my ring finger. It was a full carat diamond, princess cut, set in a plain band of platinum. Simple, but beautiful. "I love you, Nina."

  I swallowed past the knot of emotion. "I love you more."

  "Liar. That's impossible."

  I laughed. "'Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast,'" I quoted.

  "Is that Sherlock Holmes?" Ian asked.

  I shook my head. "Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass. It doesn't matter. The point is, I do love you more."

  "I'm not going to argue with you when we've only just gotten engaged."

  "Good. Get used to not arguing with me now, while there's still time."

  Champagne tastes better when you're happy, I think.

  And if that's true, then that champagne tasted like heaven, because I was deliriously happy, even as I playfully teased about him always being wrong once we got married.

  Nina Stirling. It had a nice ring to it.

  THE END

  Jasinda Wilder

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  Jasinda Wilder, Big Love Abroad

  (Series: Big Girls Do It # 11)

 

 

 

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