A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (51 page)

“I know. You looked ill, actually. But I have to know—it’s something I’ve wondered since—did you have any feelings for him when you saw him?”

“What?” I nearly shout. “Oh my God, no! Not at all.”

“No pangs, nothing?”

“No!”

He nods, exhales, and glances down like he’s relieved. “I didn’t think so, but . . . I wondered.”

I shake my head to clear my mind and gather my thoughts. “I haven’t thought about Mark in so long, so to see him that night was awkward and weird, to say the least. I used to wonder how I’d react to seeing him again, but it turned out it was like seeing a stranger—a familiar stranger, if that makes sense.”

He nods and rubs the back of his neck once more. We fall silent again. He looks at his shiny black shoes, which he’s shuffling in the dirt. “I’m sorry—I’m just really nervous.”

“Well, then just break up with me already!” I throw my hands up.

His head snaps up and his eyes bulge. “What? Break up with you?”

“Yeah. That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it? I mean, why else would you send me that impersonal note about meeting you and then hardly look at me all night? Plus, the way you left my dad’s party, and—”

“Claire!” he says as if he’s shocked. He’s shaking his head.

“Don’t shake your head at me. I’ve waited weeks to find out what’s going on with us, since you didn’t want to have any contact with me. Then tonight you see me at the theater and barely acknowledge me, and I should think something other than you want to end things? And stop your smiling. It isn’t funny.”

He forces his smile down. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to piss you off at all. If you only knew my level of nerves right now.”

“What the hell are you so nervous about?”

“Here goes,” he mumbles. He lets out a long breath, clears his throat, and says, “Do you remember that pink paper heart you gave me?”

I blink at him in confusion. “What? Yes, but what does that have to do with—”

He pulls it from his jacket pocket, perfectly intact. “I’ve kept very good care of this—as instructed—not that I needed instructions, mind you. Ever since you gave it to me, I’d often take it out to remind myself that you—beautiful you—gave this to me. And the day you gave me your heart like this, well, I felt honored. I felt like you finally trusted me with your heart—literally and figuratively. In fact, I’ve always felt so honored to be with you—that you allow me in, so to speak. I’m really lucky.”

I’m about to speak when he continues.

“Speaking of luck.” He pulls his four-leaf clover keychain from a different pocket. “Remember when you gave me this for my birthday? I already felt lucky that you trusted me to meet your family, but later that night when you said you felt lucky to have me in your life, well, my love, you have that backwards, and it’s time you know it. I know you may consider me
young
, and I suppose I am, but I’ve done a lot of living in that time. Before I met you, I was rather aimless. My career success wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I expected it to be, and things felt fake and empty.

“So to answer your question, I brought you here because what you said to me at Christmas is exactly what I think, too—I often wonder if you’re real, if this relationship is real, because how could something so wonderfully perfect exist in a world that is so imperfect? Being with you has made everything clearer, sharper, happier. To say I’m lucky to have found you is more than an understatement. I’m thankful and amazed that you could love me, when frankly, there are so many reasons not to.”

Not only am I speechless, but now I’m tearing up.
Damn him.
I’m shaking my head.

“You wouldn’t allow me to shake my head before, so no shaking yours like that.” He chuckles. “And don’t talk either, because I’m on a roll, okay?”

I nod quickly in response.

He steps closer and closer until his toes are just about touching mine. His warm, sweet breath is on my face, and his soap-and-shaving-cream scent possesses me. Taking my hands, he smiles and continues. “And the necklace you’re wearing . . . I gave it to you to remind you that my love for you doesn’t diminish when we’re far apart; it doesn’t change in any way. In fact, after all these weeks apart, my love for you . . .” He exhales like he’s readying himself. “In all these weeks, one thing has become very clear to me.”

There’s heat and electricity swirling around us, and I don’t mean the heat lightning streaking across the sky. My heart is hammering so hard, I’m unable to breathe.
Perhaps this isn’t what I thought this was . . .

“Claire, I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I gasp. “What?” Angry, I try to jump back, but he won’t let go of my hands.

He’s got a smirk on his face. “No, no. No running.” He steps back slightly and begins to . . . kneel! I freeze.

Holy shit!

Holy shit!

HOLY SHIT!

He’s on one knee, still holding my hands, and smiling his million dollar Hollywood smile. I look around to see if cameras are lurking—
is this for real?

He laughs and jiggles my hands. “Here, down here. You need to look at me for this.”

I blink, and slowly shift my wide, watery eyes to him. I’m so afraid this is a dream.

“I don’t want to be your boyfriend any longer because I want to be your husband. Will you marry me?” His eyes sparkle with sincerity, and his voice cracks just a bit, like he’s as ready to burst apart as I am.

I open my mouth to speak, but there is nothing. My brain is malfunctioning.

He laughs. “The ground is pretty hard here, so an answer anytime soon would be nice. Save a knee, save a tree . . . still working on my jokes.”

The tears of sadness that were ready to fall transform into tears of joy. I nod vigorously. “Yes!” I finally shout.

He stands and wraps his arms around me, lifting me up and twirling me around. When he finally places my feet back onto the ground, we embrace and kiss—gently, deeply. It’s the kind of kiss only possible in fairy tales—of the non-slut variety.

He pulls back, reaches into his pants pocket, and presents me with a small, square jewelry box. I burst into tears. “You do realize that we’ve given one another lucky charms along the way this last year, right? Pink heart, green clover, stars and moons.”

I burst with a gasp as realization hits me. “Oh my God, we have!”

“It’s really funny, right? And, just so you know, I’ve done some research on them—”

“Research?”

“Yeah—on the Lucky Charms marshmallow shapes—and I was surprised how many shapes they’ve tried over the years. But of all of them, I thought this would be the best lucky charm—to complete the set.” Slowly, he creaks open the box. “A blue diamond.” And it’s honest-to-goodness blue. Cushion-cut and sparkling and deep and surrounded by tiny diamonds in an antique platinum setting. I’m in awe. “Do you like it?”

I blink to clear the tears pooling in my eyes, while he pops the ring out of the box and gently slides it on my finger. It’s heavy and a bit loose, but stays on well enough. “Yes, yes. It’s beautiful.”

“You are—beautiful, that is.”

I fling my arms around his neck.

“I cannot believe this—I came here thinking you were going to end things.” I break off and stare at my finger then at him then back at my finger.

“Surprise!” he says, laughing. “It’s why I didn’t want to talk to you the last couple of weeks. I was afraid I’d give something away, and, fuck, I’ve been so nervous.” He wipes his brow, chuckling, seemingly relieved.

“Oh my God.” I’m awash with emotion; my head is swirling and my heart is singing. “That’s why you didn’t want to talk to me? Because you were planning all this?”

He grins proudly. “Yes.”

“And that’s why you didn’t call?”

“It is—apart from the fucking contract, of course.” He’s playful and proud, as he should be!

“I just can’t believe this.” My hands are shaking, and I’m still trying to catch my breath.

“Believe it. It’s real, my love.”

We hug tightly, kiss sweetly, and finally I pull back enough to ask, “I suppose we should call our families, right?”

He raises a mischievous eyebrow. “They already know.”

“How do they know? You told your parents you were doing this?”

“Yeah, I spoke with them about it. Spoke with yours, too.”

My eyes bulge and my face falls. “What! You called my parents? Oh my God!”

“Calling is for pussies.” He laughs. “I told you I was busy. I went to see them in person. It’s what a confident,
mature
man does when he wants to marry Miss Daisy. Wanted to make sure your mum knew that.”

“You told my mom about Miss Daisy?”

He laughs and holds me tight. “No. I asked for their blessing, Claire, and they gave it to me.”

I swallow hard. “I think I’m going to pass out. Was there yelling? Knives involved?”

“You’re funny. We only used the knives to cut our sandwiches when we had lunch together at their house.”

“Wait—when did you—” And it hits me. I gasp and grip his arms tighter. “My mother showed up at my apartment just a couple of days ago and apologized for . . . like, everything, and it was so strange and out of character for her, and I thought maybe she was sick or something—did you have something to do with it?”

“Maybe. The three of us talked for a long time—they were really great.”

“I . . . I can’t believe you did that.”

He squeezes me tighter. “I would do anything for you. I would . . . walk five hundred miles.”

I burst out laughing. “And I would walk five hundred more.”

We stand there laughing and laughing and hugging and hugging.

“So, what kind of wedding do you want?” he asks, pulling back.

“Oh . . . I don’t know. I didn’t think about this, so . . . whatever kind you want.”

“You’re leaving it up to me?”

“Yes, except . . . can we have it on the small side?”

He grins wickedly.

“What? You have that mischievous look in your eye,” I say.

“Well, if it’s up to me, then how about we bypass all the traditional wedding hoopla and do it now.”

“Now? As in fly-to-Vegas now?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, what about your parents? I’m sure they’d want to be there, and my parents, I mean, I know they gave you their blessing, but—”

He bursts into laughter.

“You keep laughing, and I don’t know why!”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, it’s because that’s something I spoke to both of our parents about.”

“About us eloping?”

“Well, eloping is when no one knows, especially one’s family, so technically this isn’t eloping. It’s just small. It’s just us. And, yes, my parents are fine with it. Yours, well, we spent a lot of time that afternoon talking about a lot of things.” He chuckles and cocks an eyebrow. “One of them being the actual wedding. Honestly, I was a little nervous bringing it up—you know, that ideally it’d just be you and me, but your dad seemed to know exactly what I was about to say. He suggested it before I did, in fact.”

“He did?”

He nods. “Yeah. When I first got to their house, your mum seemed to have a bit of a chip on her shoulder, but your dad was so welcoming, and we had a very open discussion about everything. Your dad went on and on about you being such a gentle person, and how he hated seeing you so torn up for so long. He also said how much he loved seeing you light up the night of his party when I got there—it’s what he’s always wanted for you—to be happy. It seemed to be a light bulb moment for your mum. She got teary and she just kept saying, ‘I know, I know,’ and shaking her head. There was such pain in her eyes. When I left, she hugged me hard and thanked me for being patient with her. She said she planned on seeing you the next day and talking with you, so I suppose she did that.”

I can hardly speak. My parents have never been frank with me, except for the cruddy stuff.

“Your mum began telling me how precious you are to her, and she could tell that you’re the same kind of precious to me, which is very true. And I want this moment to be precious to both of us for the right reasons—because I’m handing over my heart to you and you’re doing the same, and I don’t want helicopters or photographers. I want it to be just us.”

I nod and wipe my eyes. “Then we’ll fly to Vegas now?”

“Well, flying will take too long . . . I was thinking more like right-here-in-this-very-spot now. I think it’s the perfect place. Our hideaway.”

I dab my eyes again. “It’s perfect—I love it here. But, um, are we saying our vows to the sky or something crunchy like that?”

He laughs. “No. I have plans. Lots of plans. Hang on.” He takes out his cell phone. “Finally, I got this fucking thing back tonight.” He dials someone. “Hi. Can you come around the bend now, please? Thanks.” He ends the call.

“Are you hiding people, Mister Mischievous?”

“I would have, but you didn’t come through with Camille’s shovel.” Laughing lightly, he shakes his head in mock seriousness and then nods for me to turn around as an older man holding a book comes around the corner. “Hi, Justice Anthony, this is Claire, my fiancée.” My face burns with excitement at that title. “Claire, Justice Anthony.” He and I shake hands. “Justice Anthony will marry us now.”

“Oh my God! You and your surprises! You’ll never top this one.”

“Never say never.” He laughs and gives the tip of my nose a quick kiss. “Are you ready? Really ready?”

“I’ve never been readier, if that’s a word. But wait—don’t we need a license or something?”

“I’ve got it covered.”

“There’s no waiting period?”

“Nope. Justice Anthony can marry us now.”

“Isn’t there a paper to sign before?”

“After we do this, we’ll sign the papers, and the Justice will file the paperwork tomorrow.” Dan resumes his toe-to-toe marrying stance, holding my hands again. “Now, are you ready?”

I nod, and as Justice Anthony opens the bible and is about to speak, I ask, “I’m sorry, but are people going to know about this right away? Like, is there time to just enjoy it being a secret? I like the secret stuff.”

“I’ve got a plan, and I’ll fill you in on all the details—well, the bits you need to know—after. Do you have any more questions?”

I pause, thinking. “No, I guess not.”

“You sure?” He’s holding back laughter.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He inhales, exhales, and nods at Justice Anthony.

“How did you plan this?”

Dan groans. “Oh my God, Claire! Are you stalling?”

“No! No, not at all. I just have so many questions. I’ll ask you later. Sorry. Go on.”

Dan shakes his head, but is grinning all the same.

Justice Anthony says, “Daniel and Claire, we gather here tonight—in this incredible place . . .” He pauses, looking around at the phenomenal backdrop.

“That you won’t tell anyone about, right?” Dan asks him with a smile.

Justice Anthony grins, shaking his head. “No, I won’t.” He chuckles and continues. “We are here to celebrate your love, and although you enter this ceremony as individuals, you will leave here as husband and wife, blending your lives and embarking upon the most glorious adventure. I ask each of you—are you here of your own free will to declare your commitment to one another? Are you prepared to begin your life together?”

“Yes,” we say in unison.

Ahh! This is happening!

Justice Anthony continues. “Daniel, are you ready to say your vows?”

Oh shit. We’re saying our own vows?

Dan and I lock eyes, which we’ve done countless times, but in this moment it’s so overpowering it takes my breath away.

“Claire, when I think back to the lift—one year ago today, in fact—you, in your workout clothes and your face, red and blotchy—I should have known this would be the result.” His smile widens. “The feeling was so immediate and powerful—much deeper and so inexplicable that I can hardly describe the feeling, except to say that love was merely a word before I met you. And after one crazy year of highs and lows, we’ve managed to arrive here together on our cliff, and I feel more connected to you than ever. So, I see tonight’s vows not as promises but as privileges: I get to celebrate the joys of life with you and share in whatever sorrows we face; I get to walk beside you and try to outrun you on treadmills.” We laugh. “I get to build a life with you, live with you, and I get to be your husband. You are my love.”

Justice Anthony turns to me. “Claire—ready to say yours?”

It takes many moments for me to regain enough composure to actually speak. My eyes are wet and my nose is drippy and I’m not sure what the state of my makeup is. I must be a sight, much like I was on that elevator. Dan releases my hands, pats his pockets, and then reaches inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a couple of tissues. He hands them to me. “Gabrielle suggested I bring a few.” He waits patiently with a smile, beaming and loving.

Finally, I clear my throat and take his hands once more. “Well . . . since I had no idea I would be exchanging wedding vows—of all things—with you tonight, I’ll have to wing this. It won’t be nearly as pretty or poetic as yours, but here goes . . .” I take a deep, steadying breath then I look into his eyes and say, “If someone told me that in the course of a year I’d meet the man of my dreams, who was also a famous actor, have a whirlwind romance, and in the end marry him, I’d say they’d read too many romance novels. I hardly believed in love anymore when we met in that fateful elevator, Dan. But through your wit and your sweetness and your never-ending surprises, and of course your fifteen minutes of love . . .” He chuckles. “I found true love for the first time. To be able to call you my husband is a gift. I’m done wondering what I did to deserve it, and am simply grateful to have found someone who not only accepts me—flaws and all—but who wants to spend forever with me as much as I want to spend forever with him—eating Chinese and Lucky Charms.” I can’t contain my smile. “Dan, I know that our life together remains unwritten, and there will be good times and bad times to come, but no matter what, I can’t wait to write our life together. Only you.”

He kisses my hand. “Only you.”

Justice Anthony says, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dan, you may kiss your bride.”

Gently, Dan takes my face in his hands, whispers, “My wife,” and then kisses me. He pulls back; his smile is radiant. “We did it.”

There’s a rumble of thunder and a streak of lightning, and for a moment I mistake it for the fireworks in my heart and mind. I laugh. “Yes, we did!”

“Congratulations,” Justice Anthony says.

“Thank you.” We shake his hand and then Dan takes mine. “Time for the honeymoon.” He winks and begins leading me back to the road.

I stop him. “Wait. We should take a photo, no?”

He laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. We should. Would you mind, sir?” He asks the Justice.

“Of course.”

Justice Anthony takes a few photos of us with Dan’s phone then hands it back to Dan. While we scroll through the pictures, I glance at Dan, whose smile hasn’t diminished one iota, and I’m overwhelmed that he’s mine—officially, legally, forever and ever and ever mine.
Holy shit!

“So where are we honeymooning?”