by Tracy Ewens
She nodded again and West kissed her on the cheek. She smelled like roses.
The crowd parted. He nodded to all the official people on stage when he finally reached Meg and then he took her hands. He knew the crowd was still there, that people were watching, but he also understood no amount of training had prepared him for what came next. No romantic hideaways or hotel suites. This was going to be all him out in the open air, and he hoped like hell it was enough.
“I’m sorry,” West said softly, and the animated crowd that had been buzzing around Meg fell silent. It reminded her of the shutter lag during a nighttime photo. That still between capture and result. Her heart felt hesitant in her chest, but when he touched his lips to her hands, everything snapped back to full speed.
West held her face. His hands were cold and his eyes seemed clear and in such focus, she saw flecks of color she’d never noticed before.
“I need you. You told me once to lead with that so I’m hoping that was good advice. I would give anything to go back to that first night I met you, or the first time you let me in, the first time I touched you, or the instant I knew I’d fallen. If I could go back to any of those pictures.” He gestured to the heart. “I would hold you like this. I would sink into your beautiful eyes and tell you that you have saved me, Megara Jeffries.”
Life was rarely like the movies, and yet here she was surrounded by people in a busy city with a fantasy she never thought possible playing out as if all it needed was a soundtrack. Now was the moment for her to tell him all the things she’d missed the first time. If this were a movie, she would smile and tell him all the right things. Instead, she opened her mouth and the only thing that came out was, “West.”
“Let me finish. Most importantly, if I could go back I would trust you, let you pull the cord.”
Okay, maybe this wasn’t a movie.
“What cord?” she asked.
“Long story. I’ll tell you later. The point is, I love you, Meg. That means I will spend my life protecting you from cameras or whatever else gets in our way.”
She put her hand to her chest as if she could somehow keep her heart from leaping for him. It was too late. He drew her into him and kissed her.
The crowd was still silent and when he gently pulled back, the warm tears spilled past Meg’s smile. West wiped her cheeks.
“I’ll protect you too,” she said on a whisper as she kissed him again with the strength and determination coursing through her body. She would always keep him safe. She knew that.
The crowd went crazy. She’d managed to upstage him, which was fun since the man normally caused people to completely lose their minds. Meg had already forgiven him and was suddenly looking forward to a backseat when a lady in the audience said, “Do you want to borrow my ring?” The woman winked at West, and Meg almost lost her balance.
“Thank you, but she’s not a ring person. Too many things get tangled on it.”
West dropped to his knee and the crowd grew silent again. Holy hell, so much for upstaging him.
“Meg, I like the world through your eyes, your lens. I promise to walk more and traipse through the rainforests with you. Hell, I’ll even jump in the freezing water with you. Whatever you want, but from the moment I met you, I’ve needed to be with you. Please marry me.”
It felt like the city itself was holding its breath, which was silly since Meg already had her answer. She wiped her damp cheeks and allowed herself to be in the moment. She wasn’t rushing this, wasn’t quite ready to move on to the next frame just yet. Maybe one more question. She turned to the crowd. “Was any of that from a movie?”
“Unbelievable,” West muttered. “For crying out loud, I’m on my knee and the mayor of San Francisco is six feet away from us. You still have questions?”
All the guys in the crowd shook their heads immediately. Obviously the movies they were watching had more explosions than dialogue. The women appeared to flip through their romantic movie catalogs to see if he’d stolen anything from their favorite romantic lead but finally shook their heads too, some of them sharing Meg’s tears.
“Nothing? Original work?” she asked.
They nodded.
“Perfect. Westin Drake McNaughton, I may have loved you from the moment you told me to cross my legs and everything would be okay. You’ve taught me perspective and taken risks with me. I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. Now, get up here and kiss me again.”
West looked to the lady who offered the ring.
“Well, kiss her. Don’t screw it up now,” she said.
Laughter filled the street and vendors from across the street were now outside and clapping too. West touched the side of her face, and just like he had in dozens of hidden spaces, he kissed her like no one could see them.
Their story was nothing like a romantic movie despite the epic crowd scene. Theirs was a tale of clumsy beginnings, quick getaways, and right when she thought a scary ending was inevitable, he’d managed to swoop in and let her save him. They were all the genres rolled into one.
“I’m wearing underwear,” Meg whispered in his ear as they made their way off the stage.
“Well, that’s a shame.”
West kissed her again and when they reached the street Meg looked for Vince.
“How did you get here?”
“I walked.”
“Seriously? The one time I wear heels.”
He smiled and pulled her forward. “Toughen up, Poncho. You really need to get out more.”
Meg laughed, keeping pace with him as the sun ducked behind the clouds and it began to sprinkle.
Epilogue
Meg straightened the picture above the couch as West stood behind her. It was the one she’d taken on their honeymoon to the Galapagos Islands. Their small coffee table was crowded with marked-up scripts West was reviewing and Meg’s laptop, full of images that needed to be reviewed before she sent Amy her proofs for the Sierra Club campaign due the following week.
“It’s crooked,” West whispered into her neck and wrapped his arms around her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe it’s too big for the wall.”
“Maybe.”
She turned in his arms. “Maybe we need one of those big movie-star mansions.”
West smiled, his hair every which way, a look that was quickly becoming her favorite style. “I’m not a movie star anymore.”
“Yeah, tell that to the guy going through our trash.”
West pulled the blinds up and Meg collapsed on the couch in laughter. Shaking his head, he threw himself on top of her. “You thought that was funny?”
“I did,” she barely got out, squashed beneath his weight.
He pushed her hair from her face. “I love you.”
“I know,” she said and pulled his mouth to hers.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She nodded, still relishing the warmth of his body.
“There’s this new place two blocks down. Vietnamese, I think.” He stood and offered a hand to help her up. “It’s a gorgeous day. Want to walk?”
Meg’s breath whooshed quickly from her chest and returned with the steady knowledge that life was even better once the cameras stopped rolling. West squeezed her hand and they stepped out into the early afternoon. The sun was shining and the Golden Gate Bridge stood in the distance, the last tendril of morning fog dissolving into a blue sky.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank:
Katie McCoach for listening to my crazy and helping turn it into something special.
Nikki Busch for finding “because” when it was right in front of my face.
Erin Tolbert for taking care of everything else so I can do what I do.
Those who work tirelessly for the protection and preservation of our earth and the creatures who were here first. Your commitment inspires me to be a better human every day.
My family for putting up with the missed phone cal
ls, imaginary friends, and often absent mind.
Readers for continuing to invite me into your lives. The honor is never lost on me.
Tracy Ewens shares a beautiful piece of the desert with her husband and three children in New River, Arizona. She is a recovered theatre major that blogs from the laundry room.
Exposure is her ninth novel, and the eighth in the A Love Story series.
If you would like to keep in touch, you can find Tracy on Twitter at tracy_ewens, or subscribe to her newsletter at www.tracyewens.com.