Disclaimer: Anastasia, all characters, places, and related terms belong to 20th Century Fox and whoever owns the rights of the Broadway show.
Beaten to the Punch
"Will you marry me?'
Gleb nearly spilled his tea in astonishment (and it was a rare thing for him to be caught off guard). Mouth opening and closing, eyes wide, he gawked at Anya seated on the opposite side of his desk. She smiled serenely back at him.
"I was going to propose!" he spluttered, setting his cup down with a clatter.
Truly, he was! If he'd only stopped getting all tongue-tied and shy whenever he tried to ask the question. Crossing his arms he leaned back in his chair and pouted.
The young woman's smile turned into a grin. "Yes, I know."
Gleb's eyebrows shot up. She knew?! A moment later he sighed deeply. "Of course you know," he mumbled.
Her eyes twinkled. "I grew tired of waiting," she explained.
Groaning, the officer buried his face in his hand.
"Gleb?"
At the quiet, hesitant calling, he lifted his head to discover all hints of humor had faded from Anya's face who now was studying him gravely. Her eyes dimmed and focused on the desk, uncertainty settling over her like a blanket.
Gleb swallowed hard, carried back to the first time Anya had turned up here in his office. How long ago that all felt.
"Anya," he breathed, soft and gentle. Blue eyes met his. "Yes, of course I will." He extended his hand.
It was like the sun coming out, her eyes brightening as a joyful smile lit up her face. She reached out and grasped his hand. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
"I just…," trailing off he shook his head.
"I would have asked first, regardless," Anya mused.
He raised an eyebrow in question.
"In another life, as a royal I couldn't be proposed to by a commoner."
Lips twitching, Gleb silently raised her hand to his lips.
THE END
