May 2nd, 1991
Scott’s House, Antigua
I’ve never been the type of girl who envisioned her wedding day or dreamt of being proposed to, but had I given a thought to any of it, I doubt I’d have come up with a scenario that took place in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, with a guy who, fresh from pissing me off, suggested we get married!
With my head reeling, I stared at William and asked him to repeat what he just said.
“I think we should get married.”
“That’s absolutely mental!”
“I love you, you love me.”
“Have you forgotten that we live in different countries?”
“You can move.”
“Whoa! Why do I have to be the one to move? What about you?”
“Maybe I will,” he said his tone matter of fact.
“Don’t be so ridiculous, you’ve never even been to the UK!”
“I’m sure I’d visit first,” he said, sounding much calmer than me.
“And if you don’t like it then you’d expect me to give up my entire life and move to an island?”
“I’ll be moving back to the States soon.”
“You’re missing the point!”
“No, Karen, you’re missing the point.”
I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. “Remind me, please.”
“I want to marry you.”
I felt the smile spread across my face. “Point taken.”