As the ship’s horn blasts, Ginny leans over the railing and waves at the crowd on shore watching us leave port. She turns back toward me, a huge grin plastered on her face. Her smile is so infectious that before I know it, I’m grinning from ear to ear as well. How did I get so lucky? I still can’t believe she said yes.
Of course, the way I proposed to her might have had something to do with it. I made her a special ravioli dish from scratch, then served it to her during a candlelit dinner. If there’s one thing she’s smitten with, it’s ravioli. I think I come in a close second—probably tied with her favorite cake, tiramisu—because when I asked her to marry me at the end of the meal, she jumped up from the table and squealed with delight.
She’s squealing with delight now, too. “Look, I think those are dolphins escorting us out to sea.”
“I can’t imagine a more wonderful birthday than this.” I tuck a stray auburn curl behind her ear, then trace my fingers down her cheek. “Going on a honeymoon cruise with my beautiful wife to the Caribbean and dolphins—it doesn’t get any better than that.”
“Happy birthday, Preston,” she says. “I think August sixth might just be my new favorite day of the year. Right after the day we got married.”
“It doesn’t make you think about sanitation in the Roman Empire and what’s-his-name?”
“Who? What?” She cocks her head to one side. “I’ve never heard of either of those things. The only thing I know is that the most wonderful man in the world was born on this day.”
“Oh, who’s that?”
“My husband.” She looks from side to side mischievously, then lowers her voice. “He’s a really adorable nerd. But don’t tell him I said that. It might go to his head.”
“I bet he’s a historian. They’re the worst.”
“They are, aren’t they? Can’t stop talking about the past.”
“I suppose you want to talk about the future instead?”
She bites her lip and looks off into the distance for a moment, then says, “I have an idea about the future. More specifically, my future.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “Go on. Tell me.”
“I think I’ve finally figured out what I want to do with my life.” She takes a deep breath, then the words rush out of her. “You know how I love history, right? But I don’t like academia and professors.” She glances at me. “Present company excluded.”
“Obviously,” I say wryly.
“And you know how I love food and travel.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Well, I got a call from a friend who’s the editor of an online magazine. She wants me to write a weekly column for them featuring recipes from around the world, tying them in with the history of the various regions. I might even get to travel to do research.” She twirls around like a little kid. “Me! Can you believe they want me?”
When she stops spinning, I kiss her on the forehead. “Of course, I can believe it. It’s the perfect job for you.”
She leans against the railing and holds up her left hand. The emerald-cut diamond on her ring finger sparkles in the sunlight. “Are you admiring your ring?”
“I am,” she says. “I really love the art deco setting.”
I furrow my brow. “Is it too old-fashioned for you? We can exchange it if you don’t like it.”
She laughs. “Not on your life. I like old-fashioned things. After all, I married you.”
“I’m one lucky guy.”
She reaches up and tugs at my bow tie, then raises herself on her toes and lightly brushes her lips against mine. “I’m one lucky girl.”
I put my hands around her waist and pull her toward me, kissing her slowly and thoroughly. The horn blasts again, and she breaks our embrace. She leans over the railing and watches the dolphins for a few moments. Then she turns back toward me and runs her fingers along my collar. “I like your bow tie.”
Slipping my fingers underneath the straps of her sundress, I say, “Your straps are pretty nifty.”
She slowly unties my bow tie. “But I think I like you better without it.”
I slip one of the straps off her shoulders. “Ditto.”
As the horn blasts one last time, she grabs me by the hand. “Shall we continue this in our cabin, Professor Whitaker?”
“With pleasure, Mrs. Maarschalkerweerd-Whitaker.”