I get chills at his words. “Good, because I’m going nowhere.”
“No regrets?” he asks.
“Never. I’m right where I’m meant to be—where I was always meant to be.”
Reaching between us, he moves his phone away, placing it on the bed, as the song comes to a close.
I lie against his chest, closing my eyes. I breathe in the essence of him as he wraps his arms tightly around me.
“We’ve got dinner plans,” he says after a moment, picking up his phone and checking the time.
“We do?”
“Yep, and we should get moving if we’re going to make them.”
Jake rolls me off his chest and gets up.
“The staff will wait, Jake. It’s not like they’re booked up or anything. Come back to bed.” I pat the empty space beside me.
I really can’t be bothered to get up. I’m happy to stay here, wrapped up in him.
He stretches his arms over his head, giving me a full, unadulterated view of his luscious body, then leans down and places a chaste kiss on my lips.
“Just humour me for once,” he says, then retreats to the bathroom, leaving me behind to ponder.
Humour him? What the hell is he talking about?
I hear the shower turn on.
“You’ve got half an hour to get ready, so get that sweet ass of yours moving,” Jake calls from the bathroom.
He’s so bossy.
With a huff, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and head into the bathroom to join him in the huge twin shower.
“You look beautiful,” Jake says, coming up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I’m in front of the large bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on my outfit. I fasten my locket—the one Jake bought me in Paris—around my neck and smile back at his reflection.
“So do you. I love how your freckles stand out when you’ve been in the sun.”
He scrunches his face. “They make me look like I’m fourteen.”
I turn in his arms and run my fingertip down his nose. “No, they make you look hot. Hotter than usual.” I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss the tip of his nose.
I’m struggling on Turtle Island without my heels—I miss my heels a lot. I’m either barefoot or in flip-flops, which I’ll be donning tonight with my white strappy shift dress.
I step back, leaning against the sink, appraising my man, who is wearing cutoff jean shorts and a sleeveless Pearl Jam tee, looking the epitome of a rock star, with his tattoos exposed. You can take the rock star out of LA but never the rock star out of Jake.
“You ready?” he asks, fingering my locket against my chest.
“I am.”
Jake takes hold of my hand, linking our fingers, and leads me out of the bathroom, through the villa, and outside into the moonlit night.
It’s amazing here. I can see every single star in the sky. No smog shielding them from view—just clear skies for as far as the eye can see.
We walk to the beach, taking the short path to the main house, where the restaurant is. When we reach the turnoff, I start to head that way, but Jake tugs on my hand, pulling me back. He shakes his head.
I tilt my head, intrigued, but I let him lead me onward, no questions asked.
As we round the curve of the island, I catch sight of a table on the beach a short distance from the shoreline, set up and ready for us.
“Dinner on the beach?” I beam at him.
“Only the best for my girl,” he says, then kisses my forehead.
There are hanging lanterns, attached to sticks driven into the sand, surrounding the table. But it’s not the lanterns that catch my eye—it’s the lights just beyond the table.
Dropping Jake’s hand, I walk to the candles in the sand.
Marry Me
It’s spelled out by tea-light candles that have been worked into the sand, centred in a heart.
With my heart in my mouth, and my head a little dizzy, I turn to him. “You’re asking me to marry you?”
Staring steadily at me, he says, “I am.”
“Didn’t you already do that?” I offer a confused smile, holding up my left hand, displaying my very beautiful engagement ring.
Jake walks over to me. I don’t know why, but my heart starts to beat faster. My insides tremble, almost as if this is the first time he’s asking.
Reaching for me, he takes hold of both my hands. “Tru, I asked you to marry me backstage at Madison Square Garden in the midst of a show. Hardly a romantic setting and not how I ever envisioned it actually happening.” He takes a fortifying breath. “So this is me asking you the right way, the way I always wanted to.”
“Jake, I didn’t care how or where you asked me…only that you did ask.”
He rubs his thumb over my engagement ring. “I want you to have the best of everything I can give you. And I’m not talking money here, Tru. I’m talking memories. Our life together. I asked you to marry me straight after we had both just dragged each other through an emotional wringer. Now things have calmed and we’re good—”
“Great,” I add.
“Great.” He smiles. “I’m asking you again so your mind is clear on the fact that asking you was no knee-jerk reaction on my part. You, forever, is everything I want. And I guess, well…” He looks down, shifting uncomfortably, before meeting my eyes. “I guess I want to know for me too. I want to know that marrying me is exactly what you want. That you didn’t just say yes because you felt pressured into doing so.” His hands tighten around mine to almost the point of pain. “I wasn’t exactly taking no for an answer that night, was I?”