by Holly Rayner
The center of the room was row after row of red velvet floor seating, and balcony seats curved around the edge, filling the space from floor to ceiling. I’d pulled ahead of Julien, looking up at the boxed seats, at the intricate curve of the ceiling, the chandelier hanging from the center that put the one in the lobby to shame. It was like every theater I’d ever dreamed of performing in. All my dreams coming true.
I’d turned back to Julien, tears in my eyes.
“You helped me,” I’d said, holding out a hand to silence him when he’d tried to protest. “You made this possible for me. I may have had the talent, but you gave me the opportunity.”
We still didn’t agree, but I knew Julien was a critical player in my rise to success, regardless of what he said.
“You two are really a package deal, huh?” Brianna said, bringing me back to reality. “You’re never apart.”
I hesitated. I knew Brianna was happy for me. At least, I hoped she was. The only problem she had with my relationship with Julien was that I was living in Monte Carlo. Up until meeting Julien, I had never even traveled out of the country. And now, I was living half a world away and traveling several weeks every month, performing all around Europe.
I knew Brianna missed me—and I missed her, too—but she still supported me. I was happy. Beyond happy.
Brianna, observant as always, sighed. “That sounded catty. Blame the pregnancy hormones. I’m happy for you, little sis. I just miss you.”
“Of course, I miss you, too,” I said. “I’ll come home as soon as I can. Maybe in a few weeks. Mom has been pestering me for a visit, too. Though, she has also been pestering dad to fly her out to Monaco. So, we’ll see which comes first.”
“Classic Mom,” Brianna said with a laugh.
“I already talked to Julien about booking them tickets in a few months,” I said. “I obviously wanted to invite you and Jake, but you’ll be very pregnant by that point, and I don’t think you want to have your third child on an international flight.”
The doorman at the hotel pushed the door open for me as I walked in, tipping his hat to me. Julien and I had talked about living somewhere other than the penthouse, but for as infrequently as we were home, it made sense to stay at the hotel. Between my performances and his races, we basically only stayed in Monte Carlo one week out of every month. Plus, housekeeping was a very serious bonus. If we ever did move out, I wasn’t sure how I’d get used to making my own bed again.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll come while the baby is still little. Maybe when they’re around three months we’ll be able to make it over.”
“We could come see you. I don’t want you putting my new niece or nephew on an international flight if you don’t have to,” I said. “Are you really not going to find out the gender beforehand?”
She laughed. “We really aren’t. We want it to be a surprise. And it’s okay. We want our children to be well traveled, so might as well start young. Plus, it will be a special occasion.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “What special occasion?”
She stumbled for a second. “Any time I get to see my baby sister is a special occasion.”
“You’re being weird,” I said.
All of a sudden, Brianna gave a huge sigh. “The kids are fighting. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon!”
She hung up before I could say anything. I was confused because she’d told me at the start of the conversation that Jake had taken the boys to the park for the afternoon so she could have the evening to herself, but maybe they’d gotten back early.
I dropped my phone in my purse and pushed open the front door.
“I’m home,” I called out. My voice echoed in the empty house.
Julien had already been gone when I’d woken up that morning. He’d left a note saying he had to go to the stadium for a meeting and that he’d be back later in the day. The sun was beginning to set, so I was surprised he wasn’t back yet, but I dropped my purse on the table next to the door, slipped my shoes off, and padded inside.
I was home for half an hour before I tried to call Julien. He didn’t answer, so I texted him asking when he’d be home. I waited ten minutes, but still no answer.
Finally, I remembered the message board in the kitchen. He’d bought it as a way to keep track of our busy schedules, but he also left me notes there from time to time, informing me about last-minute meetings and the like. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, I noticed the long message that took up most of the board. I stepped closer to read it.
Ash,
Sorry I wasn’t here when you got home. I decided today was the perfect day to stay at the beach house. Bring your swimsuit (or don’t) and meet me there. Gérard will be waiting to take you whenever you get home. See you soon.
I love you,
J
Though I didn’t spend a ton of time near the water, I’d conquered my fear of the ocean enough in the last six months for Julien and me to make great use of his beach house. Not only was the house the perfect getaway from the city, but the beach held a special place in my heart, since it was the location where we’d truly confessed our feelings for one another.
It was kind of funny that the ocean was now the location of one of my most traumatic experiences, and one of the most wonderful. Somehow, everything had come full circle, and I couldn’t imagine being happier.
When Gérard pulled the car to a stop in front of the beach house, I practically leapt out of the car, I was so excited to see Julien.
“Merci, Gérard.”
When Julien had first mentioned that he had a beach house, I’d pictured a tiny little shack, surfboards leaning against a sagging garage, a green tin roof. But that was about as far from the truth as possible. Julien’s beach house was immaculate. It was all smooth wood, clean modern lines, and windows. So many windows.
The entranceway was tile, but it immediately transitioned into the softest, plushest white carpet I’d ever felt in my life. One of the first times we’d stayed the night in the house, I’d asked Julien if we could sleep on the living room floor.
“Hello?” I called out, turning my head to try to listen for any sign of movement. There was nothing.
I slipped my sandals off, leaving them strewn across the hallway, and padded into the kitchen. The only sign that anyone had been in the house was a half-full glass of water sitting on the polished granite countertop. Otherwise, everything was spotless.
I walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom. There was a four-poster bed in the center of the room, sheer curtains hanging from every corner, and enough pillows stacked against the headboard that they would probably crush you if you found yourself beneath all of them at once.
Julien wasn’t in the bedroom, either, but sitting in the center of the bed was a note that had been folded in half and stood up like a tent. My name was written on the front in red ink. I recognized Julien’s handwriting.
Ash,
I love you.
I wanted to start this note by saying something wonderful and romantic, but I had to get that off my chest first. I love you. The three little words feel so inadequate when I think about the depth and breadth of my love for you, but there they are so true. I. Love. You.
I love your kind heart, and the way you see the best in every person you meet. I love your sense of humor, even when you use it to make fun of me. I love your crazy bed-head when you fall asleep with wet hair after taking a shower. I love your determination and drive.
Never did I imagine getting lucky enough to have a woman like you in my life. You have made me a better person, and I can’t imagine my life without you. Hopefully, I won’t ever need to.
Please, come outside so I can see you. I miss you. And I love you.
All my love,
Julien
Tears sprang into my eyes as I read. By the time I finished, my heart was racing and the note was trembling in my hands.
Julien had been a bit absent for a few
days, always off making phone calls and running errands. He’d told me it was work stuff, and I hadn’t second-guessed it, but now, I was second-guessing it.
From the very start of our relationship, we’d talked about forever. Most couples avoid making those kinds of promises to one another, but we were never a normal relationship. I traveled across the world for our first date and we moved in together a few days later. By all measures, we were unusual.
So, because we had already given one another so much, the thought of marriage didn’t cross my mind often. I didn’t need a ring or a piece of paper to commit myself to Julien; I was fully committed after the night we’d spent together on the beach. I knew the only way our relationship would end was if one of us were to leave Earth. I was all in.
So, why was I so nervous, now? I read the note twice, not moving a muscle, trying to absorb the reality of what I believed was happening.
Julien was going to propose.
The most beautiful man I’d ever met wanted to marry me.
And I was terrified.
All the old doubts that hadn’t plagued me in so long came rushing up. How could he really want me? He could have any woman in the world. Not to mention, we’d only been together six months. Was that really a long enough time to base forever on? If I said yes, would things change between us? Would this marriage fail like my first?
I tore my eyes away from the letter and looked through the French doors that led from the bedroom out to the balcony. The doors had been partially cracked open, a soft breeze rolling through and lifting the sheer curtains. I noticed a spot of red outside the door and, curiosity overriding my fear, I stepped forward and pulled the door open.
Rose petals.
Red rose petals littered the balcony and the stairs that led down to the beach and, I assumed, had once been dropped in a line down to the shore, but the wind had long ago lain waste to that. Petals were scattered across the sand like an impressionist painting.
I followed the trail of petals and saw Julien standing on the beach with his back to me. He was looking out at the water, his shoulders broad and strong in a white linen shirt. He had on navy shorts and stood with his bare feet in the sand, looking calm and cool as ever.
For a mad second, I considered running back inside and pretending I hadn’t seen anything. I could call and tell him I wasn’t feeling well, or I’d had to rush back to the States to be with Brianna during her pregnancy. Or, I could be honest and tell him I was the world’s biggest coward. Because that’s what I would be if I left. I’d be running away from a man who loved me because I was afraid of the future, and my feelings, and his feelings, and the pain we could cause one another.
But then, I thought about the happiness we could bring, and the happiness Julien had already brought to my life. I found the courage to put one foot in front of the other.
Rose petals stuck to the bottoms of my feet as I walked across the balcony and down the stairs. When I hit the bottom step, it squeaked like it always did, letting out a high-pitched noise that caused Julien to turn around and look at me. And I knew there was no going back.
His face split into a wide smile that was plain to see from all the way across the beach. He was gorgeous. Tan and strong and perfect. The wind tousled his dark hair, and I remembered running my hands through it the night before, thinking about what it would be like to watch the dark locks turn gray over the years.
That had been me planning forever with Julien.
All the times I’d looked at him and imagined his smooth face turning wrinkled. That was forever. When I pictured him teaching our children how to drive, me sitting in the backseat warning them that the roads were not a race track. That was forever.
I’d been planning forever with Julien since the day I’d met him, so what was there to be afraid of?
I lifted the note up as a kind of wave and smiled, squinting against the sun.
“I see you got my note,” he said.
“I see you’re standing on the beach surrounded by rose petals.”
He laughed and waved me down.
I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted the life we would have together.
But still, my heart raced. My fingers clutched nervously at the note he had written me that I would no doubt read over and over again until I was old and gray. I wished he wasn’t standing so far away, because my legs were like jelly, and I was afraid I’d collapse into the sand before I could make it to him.
But I didn’t collapse. I walked across the sand until I was standing in front of him, a trembling, shaking mess of a person who felt incredibly loved and undeserving and so unbelievably happy.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers curling around to brush against my neck.
He smiled, and up close, I could see that his lips were shaking.
He dropped his hands to his sides and took a deep breath. When he looked at me, his eyes were wide and deep and blue like the ocean.
“Our relationship hasn’t exactly been traditional.”
I laughed and his lip curled up in a half-smile. That was an understatement.
“But I wanted this moment to be traditional. I wanted it to be the quintessential proposal that they show in all of your favorite romance movies.”
He reached forward and grabbed my left hand, tucking it between his own.
“Because that’s what I’m doing out here on the beach surrounded by rose petals. I’m proposing to you, Ash.”
I nodded, already trying and failing to swallow back tears. “I gathered that.”
He winked at me and then his face shifted, growing more somber. “But before I can propose, I need to tell you something.”
The panic I'd been working so hard to push down roared back to life, squeezing my lungs. “Okay.”
“I haven't been entirely honest with you,” he said, looking down at his fingers, watching as they massaged my knuckles.
Oh, God. Endless possibilities whirled through my mind in that moment. I swallowed hard, making an audible gulping sound.
“When I first met you in Vegas, I asked you to perform at the race in Monaco. I said that the organizational committee liked to have performers to open the race and bring in more of a crowd, get people excited.”
I nodded, still not sure where he was going with this.
“Okay, so that wasn't exactly true,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “But I performed at the race. I opened and closed the tournament. That was real.”
“Right, yes. And you did marvelously,” he said, kissing my hand. “But I told you the organizers of the FP100 liked to have entertainment to open the race. That was a lie. There had never once been a live performer to open the races. We only did the national anthem over the speaker system. In fact, I only came up with the idea of having a live performance when I heard you singing in the bar.”
I let my head fall to the side, the swell of emotions inside of me becoming confused.
“I don’t see why that’s a problem. It all worked out. The organizers let me sing at the race. What does this have to do with us getting married?”
“Nothing, I hope,” he said with a nervous laugh. “But there’s one more part I haven’t told you yet.”
“Out with it, Julien!” I said, throwing my arms up into the air.
A few minutes before, I’d been so nervous about him asking me to marry him, and now, I just wanted him to get on with it.
“Because there was no precedent for having a performer before the race, there was no budget for it,” he said, his voice trailing off.
Over the course of two performances, I was paid $300,000. It had been enough to change my entire life. It was one-hundred times the largest amount I’d ever had in my savings account. The money I’d made singing at the FP100 had allowed me to stay in Monaco and wait until opera houses were recruiting for their next-season productions. That money had meant everything. So, what did he mean there was no budget? I
’d been paid.
“The money was mine,” he finally said with a sigh. “I offered to pay the singer out of my own pocket.”
My eyes went wide. “You? You paid me $300,000 to sing?”
He smiled uncomfortably. “I may have gone a bit overboard. I really wanted you to come to Monaco and I had a feeling you’d only do it for an outrageous sum.”
I slapped his shoulder. “You liar!”
“Hey!” His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you seriously mad at me right now?”
“No!” I shouted in response, slapping his other shoulder.
“Then why are you yelling?” he asked, blocking my next swing.
Julien grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them to my sides. I struggled for a moment and then, unable to hold it in anymore, laughed.
“Because I’m annoyed at you. Had I known you were paying me out of your own pocket, I never would have come.”
“Which is why I didn’t tell you,” Julien said. “I knew you wouldn’t come.”
“I know. So, I’m glad you didn’t tell me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, now, I’m confused.”
I smiled and rolled my eyes at him, which was apparently enough for him to decide I could be trusted not to hit him again.
“I’m annoyed because you get away with everything. I’m upset that you lied to me, but I’m glad you did because I love the way things worked out. Even when you do something wrong, I end up thanking you for it.”
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Charming you is my superpower.”
“Is there anything else I should know before you propose?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, popping one hip out to the side.
Julien raised one finger in the air. “Just one more thing.”
I groaned. “What is—”
My words died in my throat when he pulled a small black box out of his back pocket and popped it open. The largest diamond ring I’d ever seen was nestled inside. The ring was white gold with one large diamond in the center as big as an almond. I was amazed it even fit in the box.