“Oh my god, look!” I point up to the sky and clutch Taylor’s arm. A hazy teal ribbon dances in the air. It is the best display of the aurora we have seen so far. Behind it, the sky explodes with millions of stars. Being in the city most of my life, I have never seen anything like it. Someone like myself, who only has a rudimentary knowledge of the constellations can easily pick out Orion’s Belt, the Little Dipper, and the Small Dipper in the clarity of the star-speckled sky.
Taylor smiles quietly at me, seeming pleased by my child-like enthusiasm. I even make a joke about unicorn farts that he enjoys thoroughly. My immature sense of humor seems to rubbing off on him.
The glass igloo is cozy though the view of the outside world is filled with frost and snow. I play music on my phone for ambiance as we quietly look up at the stars. Taylor uses his phone to pull up constellations and we try to match them with what we see in the sky.
Within an hour the aurora bursts into the sky: magentas, greens, reds, and blues slowly brighten up the starry heavens. It seems otherworldly, like we have flown to another frosty planet to watch its atmospheric event. But, we are still on earth, with all its problems, tragedies, and injustices. At this moment though, it feels like all of those things have washed away.
“Taylor, it looks like you really did summon the aurora,” I say quietly, He hasn’t spoken in a while and I wonder if he has dozed off.
His hand brushes against the hair that feathers onto my cheek. He takes a long breath, my head ascending and collapsing with his diaphragm and then he responds: “Shy, I need to tell you who Céline is.”
And the perfection of my magical sky, the protective walls of my igloo fortress, the utopia of my icy planet, cannot restrain the reality of my world.
Chapter 14
“What is it?” I say, sitting up abruptly. Taylor’s face hints at something I have never seen before. His mouth turns down at its sides, I think I see a glisten of sweat on his brow. Is he worried? Full of dread? Anxious? “Taylor, tell me. You are making me really nervous.”
“I did visit Céline in Geneva. I didn’t go there for H.I. business. I used Henry as a cover for a phone call and your question about him in Geneva threw me off because I was on a tight schedule and in a bidding war at the time. Using him backfired horribly. I should have known better than to think you wouldn’t notice my less than perfect story. This whole thing with Céline, I never thought I would say this but nothing has ever had me on edge like this. So I wasn’t my usual self, and I made some huge mistakes, which you uncovered.”
“Who the fuck is she?” I ask firmly.
“She’s a rare and antique jewels dealer. The best there is. She sells things any museum would be happy to display.”
“I don’t understand…”
“This sapphire,” he pulls out a small red velvet box, “was part of the Romanov family jewels. It has an amazing past, attached to one of the greatest love stories in history. I had to see it for myself before bringing it back. I specifically wanted something from Russia because that is where I first told you how I felt about you. It was when everything changed between us. Céline is pregnant and could not travel. And frankly, I needed to go to Geneva to make the cover more plausible. Iceland wouldn’t have made sense, you know enough about H.I. to know that. Of course, you are a massive pain in the ass, and nearly blew the whole thing. But I suppose that part of you I love just as much as the others. I knew what I was getting into with you when I came after you in the elevator.”
“This is all about jewelry?”
Taylor stands up, opening the box as he gets on one knee.
And then I become that woman. The one I have scoffed at on television countless times. I mean, it’s a marriage proposal, not world peace. Because of Taylor’s unconventional ways, the thought of marriage never really crossed my mind. I too was never one who was desperate for such a thing, I figured if it did come I would be very practical about it. But with Taylor and I, there is so much history between us. These have been the hardest and most intensely euphoric months of my life. A twister of all of the things I have ever felt for Taylor sweeps me up and overtakes any sort of pragmatic response I imagined I would have.
Before he even says a word, a surge of emotions erupt from my chest. I clasp my hands over my mouth. Until the moment he dropped to his knee I truly had no idea that it was coming. Taylor is not the marrying type. We had never even discussed marriage. If there was a list of 100 things Taylor could have confessed to me tonight, this would have been number 99, just above: “Henry and I are running away to be together.” So on top of all the wild and potent sentiment, I am more stunned than I have ever been.
The sapphire ring reflects the spectrum of colors in the arctic sky, its rich blue backdrop twinkling like a miniature version of the firmament above us.
“I thought that a ring for a queen, better yet a tsaritsa, would be the only one fitting for you. Something as unique, delicate, beautiful and strong as you are.”
“Taylor…” My voice quivers and there is a vibration of uncertainty about it. I don’t want him to do this because he thinks I need it. “Are you sure?”
He takes a deep breath, “I had this speech prepared in my head and now I can’t believe this, but I don’t remember it. But before you make a decision, there are some things I need to say to you.”
Oh my god, he’s so rattled. How fucking adorable.
“It’s okay,” I say, gently smiling as I reach over and stroke his dark hair. Not once have I ever seen him like this, he’s usually so composed.
“I regularly deliver speeches to some of the most powerful people in the world, but only you can bring me to my knees. So, I am going to speak from my heart. Because it is the place you solely inhabit. You are the queen of its dominion. Loving you and taking care of you has been my life’s purpose, it has always been.”
He pauses and swallows sharply. His eyes glisten and illuminate as he bites his lower lip for composure. I wait patiently as he searches his thoughts.
“I thought I died when I was seven. I walked this earth; I lived and breathed like everyone else, but I wasn’t alive. I didn’t know it, but it’s because I was waiting for the little girl who stole my heart to come back to me. And then, on a day like any other, I took a detour to grab a cup of coffee and for the first time, my heart fluttered when I laid eyes on a familiar—and clumsy—soul.”
We both lightly chuckle. The overflow of emotion sends shivers down my arms. I fight to keep my eyes on his, despite feeling like it’s more than I can handle at this moment.
“I never could fathom wanting more for someone else than I would want for myself. When I thought I might lose you again, I had never experienced terror like that. I knew that I would trade my life for yours in an instant.”
His next words, though seemingly improvised, are delivered in the meter of a poem:
“I realized you are my future.
A life without you would be like dying all over again.
You and I, we can conquer anything together. We already have overcome so much.
I don’t care where we came from, or the mistakes that were made before us.
I just know that I want you to be mine. Officially. Forever.”
Taylor pulls the ring from the box. It twinkles, like a small galaxy with stars bursting throughout. “Shyla Peters,” he accentuates the last name, as if to take it back from my father’s clutches, to remind me that my paternity means nothing to him, and to remind us of the true beginning of our relationship, “will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
I look down at my hand and it’s shaking, so much so that I am not sure he could slide on the ring if I accept. I know he wants an answer now, but my mind is swirling. This doesn’t even feel real. I need at least a few beats to process all this before I commit to becoming Taylor’s wife.
“Taylor…” I say softly. His eyes narrow with concern. “I never thought you would want to marry. I’m completely stunned…”
“H
onestly, neither did I. But then I found you. Meeting you has completely changed the way I see myself and the life I could have. It’s like I am wearing Shyla-tinted glasses and there are possibilities I see now that I was blind to. There is no one else, it always was and will always be you. And that’s what this is about, I want to share everything with you. I want to give you everything you never had. Everything.”
“You realize this will make us family? That means meeting my mom and crazy aunt Gigi?”
He laughs under his breath and seals the deal with that crooked smile that brightens his face, turning his eyes down flirtatiously. “I do.”
I can tell that was something he had thought about, and his willingness to compromise on something that was such a hard line for him tells me that this is real. He doesn’t just want to possess me, he wants to make me happy.
“Shyla, I am done letting C.O.S control me. And that means not letting it get in the way of giving you the type of family you have always deserved. That’s what I mean by everything.”
I pause, taking in Taylor’s visage: the anticipation in his glimmering eyes, the dark lashes that frame them, the contours of his sculpted jaw line, his soft pout: the one that has kissed me, bitten me, screamed at me, comforted me.
There is only us. There’s only ever been us.
I am overcome with gratitude. Randall was right, this is the love they write about in books. And that’s not a bad thing. I am done feeling guilt about who we are, who we were destined to be. Taylor and I are extraordinary, it’s a great gift, and a great burden, and I must accept both sides of that coin.
“You didn’t think I’d say no? Did you?” I smile through misty eyes. “Of course, Mr. Holden, of course.” I say, leaping at him before he can even place the ring on my finger. I topple him over and smash my lips against his, the saltiness of my happy tears mingling with the taste of his lips.
***
I lie in Taylor’s arms as I raise my hand to admire the sparkling ring as it rests on my finger.
“You said it had a rich history. So tell me about it…”
“I don’t know how much you know about Russian history, but the Romanov family was the monarchy in Russia before the revolution in 1917. They lived in the Winter Palace, where we went to the gala.”
“Oh my god! Our first unofficial date! Nice digs.”
“Tell me about it. Well, one of the great love stories was of the last Tsar and Tsaritsna, Nicholas and Alix. Nicholas’s parents did not want him to marry her. On top of that she practiced another religion and very devout. He was set up multiple times with other women who his father deemed more appropriate, but could never forget her. Finally, he told his father he would marry her or no one at all and the Tsar relented. She converted to the Russian Orthodox Church to be with him. They stayed together until they were killed in the Russian Revolution. Many of the royal jewels were lost after that, but Céline,” he said, drawing her name out mockingly, “knew someone who had a private collection and we convinced him to part with a sapphire. Then I had a custom setting made based on what I thought would match your tastes.”
“It’s gorgeous. You nailed it,” I said, admiring the emerald-cut sapphire, meticulously set in a platinum art deco setting, the gem held by diamond-flecked triangular clasps. The understated simple elegance and character of the ring would have been something I would have chosen myself without hesitation.
“There’s an inscription on the inside.”
“Really?” I sit up, pull off the ring, and shine a light on the inside of it.
I read, out loud, the two simple words that say everything:
Only us.
“What about your ring? Will it be Russian too?”
“I thought you might want to have a go at it. Maybe design something yourself with your artistic skills.”
“Smart man. So how long did you have this up your sleeve? I don’t think this has registered yet. I feel like I might wake up and realize I was having a good dream for once.” Though I am speaking to Taylor, my eyes firmly rest on the sky above us as chartreuse hues curve from the sky to the horizon. Taylor does the same.
“Right after I got you back from Eric, it suddenly it hit me. I understood why people get married, it just clicked. I knew I wanted to be with you and never lose you. But then, you weren’t yourself. And it made me realize even more how important you are to me. I thought I would give you the space to heal, but after a while, I felt I needed to do something. And I decided we were leaving the country and I wasn’t coming back until you were better. Until you were officially mine. So, I got a recommendation from Mona, who has a large network of high-end jewelry contacts as a stylist, and called Céline just before I started packing your bags.”
“Wow.”
“And now you can understand the stress I may have been under, trying to be there for you, in the midst of an antique jewels negotiation with a stubborn Russian oligarch while my nosey girlfriend lurked in the shadows. Hence, my inability to cover up all of my tracks as efficiently as I would have liked.”
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.
“Nothing gets past you, oh curious one.” I shrug my shoulders innocently and then kiss Taylor on the cheek. “The wedding, I want you to do it however you would like. If you want a planner, we’ll get one. Whatever you want. I just ask one thing.”
“Of course.”
“I would like to keep it small. You know how I feel about crowded spaces and mingling. I purposely keep my life out of the press because privacy is important to me. I don’t want to share you on our day. At least, not with people who aren’t essential.”
“Taylor, I couldn’t agree more. I just want it to be our closest family and friends.”
“Great. So, fiancée, I hear there’s a tradition in Finland where an engagement is not official until you consummate it in a glass igloo under the aurora in Lapland,” Taylor says with his mischievous smirk.
“Oh really?” I respond innocently. “I heard once you put a ring on it, you shouldn’t have any intercourse until the wedding night.”
“Not a chance,” Taylor says, flipping me onto my back and pinning my arms down, his arousal pressing against my pelvis. “There is going to be all kinds of fucking happening from now until then.”
Chapter 15
“So you ready to get back to real life?” I ask Taylor as I lazily lie my head on his lap. He is reading something on his phone and pauses to respond.
“There are things I am looking forward to, others not so much.”
“What are you looking forward to?”
“I won’t mind marrying you, whenever that happens, and watching Lizzy’s eyes explode out of her face when we tell her we’re engaged.” We had agreed not to tell anyone until we returned home. For one, we wanted to tell people in person and secondly, we wanted to control the flow of information. Taylor guards his private life fiercely from prying eyes. He is very selective about public appearances and what he discloses in interviews. I am fully supportive of this as I have no desire to have my life splattered across websites or newspapers. Let’s be honest, we are the sexually sadomasochostic secret children of infamous cultists, we really don’t want any attention on us. So, there would be no public announcement, no press release. We would simply sit down with our closest friends and family to let them know the news. Then we would get married soon after in a quiet and private ceremony. I already scheduled a meeting with a planner for shortly after my return to the US. Taylor insisted we go with a specific planner who is known as one of the best in the country and is known for her discretion, having planned many celebrity weddings.
It has been two weeks since Taylor proposed to me under the swirling aurora, and things were finally starting to feel right again. We spent the following two weeks touring the Mediterranean, from the French Riviera to the coasts of Spain and Italy, soaking up the sun and filling up on some of the most mouth-watering cuisine. The fog of shock and depression rolled away; my mind felt clearer. The nightmar
es subsided, only happening once again, and not nearly as intensely. Taylor’s prediction was right, time would make the pain dull, leaving a soreness that would only flare when touched. As long as I didn’t think about that day, about the things we did, I could live like it had never happened. At first, I feared the incident in the field would tear Taylor and me apart, but it hasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, things would never be the same, but that’s because the tragic circumstances that triggered this trip brought us close together than we were before. Only we could talk to each other about that day. Ever. It is the most heavy in the catalog of secrets we have to bear.
Sure, there were two others who knew (at least that I know of, Taylor insists on plausible deniability), but they didn’t know. They were paid not to know. If I walked up to Harrison and outlined the details of that day, I am certain he would pretend not to recall. I don’t know how one gains that level of loyalty, I assume vast amounts of cash has something to do with it, but Taylor has found a way.
It’s strange how hiding a killing with someone binds you to them. It’s not something we discuss regularly, especially as time offers distance from the event. But it is always there. Most times it can be pushed to a deep, quiet place, almost as if it never happened. But there are unexpected triggers that quickly bring that heaviness to the surface. We could be watching a television show where one man shoots another. Before, it was so clearly fiction, that even when I identified with the characters, there was a safe distance from my reality. I could enjoy watching the film because no matter how much I enjoyed the story, I was not one of those people. But that safety, that distance, no longer exists. Instead, the truth comes rushing out from that deep place right back to the surface, I can actually feel it as it happens, though I have to remain still on the outside: I am rewatching a version of a pivotal scene in the story of my life. That dangerous man on the screen is a version of my future husband.
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