"Now that we're done with organising the bedroom, I think if we just replace the media unit and the armchairs, the drawing room could look half decent," Viola said pointing at the furniture, without turning, and Rhys laughed behind her.

"How did you know I was there?" he asked, walked up to her, and wrapped his left arm around her.

She leaned back, pressing into his warm hard body. She'd caught his reflection in the telly, but she'd been on the receiving end of the Holyoake sixth sense when it came to someone's presence behind them, so she wasn't going to give up her little moment of triumph.

"Well, I've been a Holyoake for more than fifteen years," she said. "Your family's magical abilities have rubbed off on me."

"Technically you aren't a Holyoake anymore - nor are you one yet," he said and opened his other hand in front of her.

On his palm there was a red velvet box, and Viola gave out a surprised gasp. She thought she knew what was inside, but the box was long, better suited for a bracelet or even a necklace.

"Are these–" she whispered, and picked up the box with both her hands.

"Just open it," he said and kissed her temple.

The lid opened, tight against the movement of Viola's fingers, and inside she found her two rings - and a delicate bracelet and an elegant matching brooch, with charming enamel violets, and little crystals sitting in their hearts, and on the bracelet, also on the links between the flowers. The brooch looked like a realistic bunch of violets, tied with a white ribbon.

"Oh that's beautiful, Rhys," she said. "I don't know what to take first."

"Let's start with the bracelet," he said.

Viola stepped out of his embrace and lifted the box to him. He picked up the bracelet and clasped it around her left wrist.

"I took your rings to clean, and the jeweller offered me these," Rhys said, gently stroking the bracelet and then the little bone on her wrist. "He said the brooch is the symbol of those women, who were fighting for the right to vote, or soemthing, but I thought, who cares. These are viol-ets, right? So, it fits."

"I was named after the flower," Viola said, unable to tear her eyes from the bracelet. "My Mother loved the scent of Viola odorata. They use it in perfume a lot." She chuckled and threw Rhys a cheeky glance. "And they were not a symbol of the suffragette movement. These are Sappho's violets, a subtle symbol of female gay love."

Rhys hummed and looked down at the brooch.

"Will you still wear it?" he asked.

"Of course," she said and gently patted his chest. "It's absolutely beautiful. Thank you." She rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "And the bracelet too." She moved her hand watching the silver chain in delight. "I love it."

"Alright then," he said nonchalantly. "So, about the rings–"

"Yes?" she said and stretched her hand to her engagement ring.

He pulled the box away from her.

"Are we seriously just going to Abernathy and signing some papers?" he asked, and Viola laughed.

"I've already paid for the license, and we can just go next Tuesday. Have you changed your mind?" she asked. "Are you not going to make an honest woman out of me?"

"As long as you're sure," he grumbled and moved the box to her. "I just thought–"

Viola's fingers hovered over the ring.

"Darling, I honestly think it's the best possible option," she said earnestly, tilting her head and catching his gaze. "I've moved in. We're buying furniture. We've opened a shared bank account to pay for the renovations. I just want to be your wife and start living our life together."

He studied her - and then nodded slowly.

"As long as it's because you just don't want a wedding–"

"I don't want a wedding," she said. "But I want everything else. And I think we should consider having a second honeymoon. Not necessarily right away, but imagine! A beach, warm sand, and lovely clear blue water. Somewhere Mediterranean. Greece, maybe?"

"You drive a hard bargain," he said, his frown growing rather fake, and he clicked his tongue.

Viola pushed his hands along his sides and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'm getting quite a lot out of this bargain myself," she sing-songed. "I see something's bothering you." She cupped his jaw and rubbed the harsh whiskers of his beard with her thumb. "Why don't you just fess up, I'll reassure you, and we can look into choosing new armchairs? After you give me my rings, of course."

He was quiet for a few seconds, and she watched knots of muscles move on his jaw. He didn't seem angry, but something clearly aggravated him. Viola rubbed her cheek to his sternum, waiting patiently.

"Listen, I know it's just my insecurity talking," he blurted out. "And I reckon, since you're giving me a chance the third time, I shouldn't–"

"Third time?" Viola asked, leaning back to look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, with the Dance, and stuff." He pressed his lips. "But it just feels like you aren't all in, you know."

"I am," she said softly. "Darling, we've already gone through one divorce, and I think there might always be this sort of sense of insecurity, for both of us. You worry that I'll leave. I worry that we will be miserable again. But there's never any guarantee in any relationship. We just need to do our best. Remember, that's what you offered me?" she said with a small laugh and rubbed his back between his shoulder blades. "You told me you'd do better this time. So will I. I promise."

He sighed and then nodded. She could see she didn't convince him - but she had her whole life ahead to do so, so she just smiled and then mimicked walking with her fingers along his forearm and towards the box.

"So..." she drew out, and he chuckled. "Just don't kneel, please," she said with a chuckle and then splayed her hand in front of him.

He barked a throaty laugh - and slid her engagement ring on her finger. Viola exhaled through her rounded lips. He caught her gaze, and she smiled shakily.

"I know I keep joking about it, but–" She exhaled noisily again. "It does matter to me too, Rhys. The rings and the papers."

Emotions splashed in his eyes, and she rose on her toes again to tenderly kiss him.

"I love you," she said. "And I think– maybe I don't say it enough. But I do, Rhys, I truly do."

He pulled her into a deep kiss, and she arched into him. They were both heating up, and for once, he was the one to pull away first.

"C'mon, give me your hand," he said, his voice coarse, and gently pushed the Holyoake band following Nana's ring.

She wiggled her fingers, and a happy laugh burst out of her.

"See, now everything is right in the world," she said, and they smiled at each other. "How about we tell Nana tonight?" she said. "We can stop by for tea. She'll be happy to know that all her scheming paid off."

Rhys was playing with the rings on her finger, and looked up.

"What scheming?"

"Oh you poor naive soul." Viola snorted. "She set it up from the start, don't you see? Getting me the position in the surgery, convincing Alan to rent the flat out to me, inviting you and me to dinners together. She's been trying to get us back together from day one."

Rhys' jaw slacked, and Viola snickered.

"I reckon she wishes what's best for me," he said with a shrug in a few seconds, and went back to looking at the diamond and sapphires twinkling on her finger.

"Well, that's very sweet of you to say," Viola murmured and took his hand. "C'mon, I have a few online shops open on my laptop. I wanted you to look at the armchairs and the media units."

He grudgingly followed her, occasionally trying to dawdle and dig his heels in the floor.

"You don't need my opinion. Just buy what you think works," he grumbled. "As you keep saying I have no taste in furniture and linens, and– Are we going to the bedroom?"

"Oh look, nothing escapes you," she teased.

On top of the stairs Viola turned around, picked up both his hands, and started walking backwards. This time he wasn't resisting at all. When they came in, he came to a sharp halt and exhaled a raspy 'woah.'

"Remember when I stayed over one of the first times?" she said innocently. "And I told you that statistics show that having a telly in the bedroom leads to less marital sex."

"I haven't noticed," he said and threw her a cheeky side glance. "So you covered my telly with a mirror."

"It's our telly," Viola said and climbed on the bed. She heard an approving hum behind her, and she wiggled her backside in the air, sat down, and patted the cover near her. "Come."

He didn't need to be invited twice, and then she pressed her hand into his chest. He was leaning in, his lips already puckered.

"Look," she said and pointed at the mirror.

He grumbled something, but turned his head.

"Oh." He eyed their reflection. "That's a– good angle."

Viola lay down and stretched on her back.

"It is, isn't it?" she said, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

"This definitely improves the– decor, compared to a screen," he said, and Viola confirmed with a 'uh-huh.' "Wait," he said and looked down at her. "Did you ask someone to hang it for you? How did they know what angle to hang it on? Did you–"

"I can hang a mirror, you clot," Viola laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down. "I've been single for years. I don't need a man, I know how to use tools."

They were kissing, and he'd already opened the buttons on his jeans, when she said, "I did put the screws in myself, but I had to ask Oliver to lift it. It's too heavy."

His lips paused on the side of her throat, and then she felt a rumbly chuckle vibrate against her sensitive skin.

"Of all my relatives you chose a priest to help you hang a shag mirror," he murmured and nipped her neck.

"He's the strongest," Viola exclaimed, and he laughed more and shook his head.

"He probably didn't understand what it's for anyroad," he said with a shrug - Viola decided he didn't need to know how wrong he was - and he looked at the mirror over his shoulder. "I'm so glad I asked you to redecorate, love."

"You're welcome," Viola said mannerly, grabbed his chin with her thumb and index finger, and turned his face to her. "Focus, please."

He smirked lopsidedly - and obeyed.

THE END