When The Sun Sets

1: Love Made Me Crazy

Part One | Chapter One: Love Made Me Crazy

London, England

April 1917

Harry doesn't ask me to marry him. He tells me to.

I've never put much importance on marriage. All the marriages I've grown up around have been arranged. They have always been mere transactions, so to be a part of that exchange is something that's never intrigued me. The thought of breaking the cycle of unhappy marriages I've seen since I was younger is daunting, too big of a task to put on my shoulders. I do look at Harry and think I'd like to be with him for the rest of my life. We've talked about vows and whether we, being an irreligious duo, should bother to wed in a church, however, this seems to be in the future, years and years from now.

He springs it on me on my 24th birthday after everyone has gone to sleep. Due to the fact that I've been living with his family every summer, he's had to sneak into my room, sitting beside me on my bed. We're far too tired to be intimate tonight, thanks to the party his sister, Thea, has put together. We've both had some drinks and we're not too far from being drunk. I hold his hand in mine, my cheek pressed to his shoulder.

Harry says it loud and clear so I know it's not just the buzz of the alcohol in my ears. I pick my head up and look at him through heavy eyelids. For a split second, I see two of him. "What?"

His eyes are clearer than mine, voice less drowsy. "Marry me."

I laugh quietly, rubbing my cheek on his shoulder again. "Most men are gentlemen and tend to ask. In a more romantic way, too."

"I'm not asking," Harry says, completely serious. His mouth is in a tight line. I search for any hints of sarcasm, but the man who stares back at me is genuine in his words and expression. His eyes glance down to my mouth briefly. "I'm telling you to marry me."

I push myself off of him. "Sounds more like you're ordering."

"And what if I am?"

"Then I have to yell at you for it. What if I don't want to marry you, you insufferable man?"

Harry smiles fully, pink lips spread across his face, triggering the dimples on either side of that mouth. "Of course you do," he says as he leans down for a kiss. "I shouldn't even have to ask."

Despite the warmth of the kiss, I pull back and ask, "What do you mean?"

"Let's go to the courthouse tomorrow."

This comment forces a chuckle out of me. "Oh? Impatient, are we?"

Harry presses his mouth to my neck. "You have no idea," he gently whispers, all hot breath, biting down on my skin. "Is that a yes, then?"

"Harry," I say, much more sober now, gently prying him away. He holds my hands tightly and searches my eyes, his own softening.

"Annaliese."

"It's only, what, about a year and a half?"

"I know it's been that long since we've been together, but I've been yours for longer. I was born for you. And I want to be with you until I die. I want all the time I can have with you, so yes, excuse me if I'm a little impatient. I don't mind how you want the wedding. If you want to have a big one, then let's do it. If you want to run away, let's do it, Annaliese. Just say yes."

He kisses the expanse of my throat, my jaw, and my cheeks. "Harry, you know I'm not... I'm not in a rush and I'm not going anywhere. I'm still here in London and when I get a job, I'll be around whenever you want me to be."