I couldn’t help but smile and laugh under her praise. “You know more about me than I do about you. We can’t have that. It isn’t fair,” I teased, though I was incredibly pleased she’d not only heard of me, but knew my business’s history and found it impressive.
Her cheeks pinked. “What do you want to know? I’m not really that interesting. I wouldn’t even know what to share outside of the norm. I’m a college student. I was a year ahead, so I only have one more year of college to secure my bachelor’s degree. Then I planned to study under a vet near my home in Sandee to earn practical hours. Of course, that’s now changed. But I’ll get back to it, in… well, in three years.”
Three years.
Savannah had not only given up her life to enter The Marriage Auction, but she also fully intended to go back to it after the three-year timeframe, while I planned to keep her indefinitely.
Looks like you’ve got three years to prove yourself a worthy husband, Erik.
“There really isn’t much more to know about me. You know I need the money from the auction to help my family farm, which I’m so grateful to you for, and I’ve spent most of my life focused on school.” She frowned and then looked away as though she was hiding something.
The lone flight attendant entered the cabin and approached us.
“Hello, Mr. Johansen. Good to see you again, sir,” she stated politely.
I smiled briefly at Ingrid. The young woman had worked for me for the past few years, and aside from one slipup where she made a pass at me, which I turned down, she’d been the epitome of professionalism.
“May I get you and your guest a drink?”
“Ingrid, this is my fiancée, Savannah. Savannah, Ingrid. She’s been my flight attendant for the past few years.”
Savannah smiled brightly at the woman and stretched her hand out to shake Ingrid’s.
“Good to meet you,” Savannah replied.
“Fiancée?” Ingrid gawked for a scant second before the professional demeanor slipped right back into place. “That’s cause for celebration. Would you like me to open a bottle of champagne?” She directed her question at me.
I nodded. “You’re right. It is a time for celebration. Please, Ingrid. Champagne and strawberries if we have them aboard.”
“We absolutely do,” Ingrid chirped happily. “I will also prepare a few nibbles. It’s approximately six hours to New York, where we’ll stop to refuel before heading to Oslo. I’ll make sure you have a light lunch when we’re at cruising altitude. This is excellent news and such a surprise. Congratulations, Mr. Johansen and soon-to-be Mrs. Johansen.”
While I was exceptionally pleased hearing Savannah referred to as Mrs. Johansen, she did not have the same response. Her lips flattened and compressed into a thin line as she shifted her gaze to stare out the window, a wave of melancholy flooding her features.
I gave her a few minutes to ponder our situation. For me, from the second I’d laid eyes on the woman, I knew she was it. Call it what you wished. Soul mates. Love at first sight. The one. I didn’t care what title was placed on our connection, just that it had existed instantly for me. And I knew something had clicked for her. It wasn’t possible for me to be the only one who felt such an extreme visceral attachment. Every time we touched, there was this overwhelming feeling of relevance, of importance. As if every path of my life had ultimately led me straight to her.
To Savannah.
I couldn’t nor wouldn’t ignore the bond that was thrumming underneath the surface each time we touched.
Except something was preventing her from giving in to our connection, to whatever this magical thing was between us. And I wanted to break through that obstacle with a mighty sledgehammer. Obliterate it into a million tiny shards making it useless. Destroy whatever it was so that it could no longer prevent this incredible woman from being mine.
Once Ingrid filled two champagne glasses and set a beautiful tray with an array of fruits, cheeses, chocolates, crackers, and bread before us, she took her leave. I held up my glass.
“To new beginnings in lands far, far away?”
Finally, Savannah’s eyes lit with a sparkle of excitement and she lifted her glass. “Cheers,” she said.
I looked her directly in the eyes, making sure her gaze didn’t waver as I said, “Skol,” the traditional Norwegian phrase for good health, and we both sipped.
Savannah hummed and picked up a strawberry, put her pouty lips around the fruit, and bit into it. The berry was so ripe its juice trailed down her lip. I wanted so badly to bite that lip and suck off the flavor, tasting it from her lips directly. Instead, I leaned over and ran my thumb across the plump tissue, catching the juice and bringing it to my own lips, tasting it that way.