Smart Girl (25 page)

The music drops lower just as Charlie’s voice rings out into the yard, startling us both.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

He’s walking across the yard grinning at us—in full Elizabethan period dress. I can’t help but chuckle. “This is awesome, Charlie. Is this part of your speech or something?”

He winks and walks right past us to stand near an orange tree and then just waits patiently. OK, now I’m confused.

“Uh . . . Charlie, did you—”

“I come here with no expectations,” Casidee’s voice calls out into the yard. She looks beautiful dressed in a Regency-era style, the flowing gown suited perfectly to the line she quotes as she walks towards me. “Only to profess now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and has always been, yours.”

She grins at me and takes a place next to Charlie. What in the world? Why is my assistant quoting
Sense and Sensibility
? I look at Tosh, who shrugs, clearly as thrown off as I am.

“I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you.” My heart starts to race when I recognize the quotation. I’ve read that page in
Jane Eyre
so many times that the paper is worn thin. Taylor looks so handsome in his Georgian costume of a brocade waistcoat and britches as he continues as Rochester. “You are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel.”

He takes a place next to Casidee, and the whole lot of them grin like crazy people.

I take a step closer. “Guys, I don’t get it—”

“Something magical has happened to me,” Malin says as she steps out onto the patio. Her red velvet dress looks like it was plucked out of nineteenth-century Russia, just like her lines. “Like a dream when one feels frightened and creepy, and suddenly wakes up to the knowledge that no such terrors exist. I have wakened up.”

She goes to stand with the group.

Next comes Brody, and I let out a loud laugh when I see him in costume as well. “I cannot make speeches, Emma . . . If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.” Knightley’s declaration from Jane Austen’s
Emma
is made sweeter by his bad delivery and the fact that he keeps glancing down at the crib sheet in his hand. Brody is clearly uncomfortable acting, especially in high-waisted button-front trousers. I wonder how much whiskey Landon had to ply him with to get him to agree to do this for her.

Landon is right behind him, and when I see her dressed in a gorgeous pink Regency dress with an empire waist, I grin. When I see the tears shining in her eyes, it startles me, and then when I notice the bonnet on her head, my heart starts to pound frantically. I thought she’d set this up as part of her party, but surely she wouldn’t be in costume too—she’d never willingly flatten her hair right before an event. I don’t know what’s happening around me, but for the first time it occurs to me that this isn’t about them.

“Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old,” she says. “I have seen a great many lists of her drawing up at various times of books that she meant to read regularly through—and very good lists they were—very well chosen, and very neatly arranged—sometimes alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. I remember thinking it did her judgment so much credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made out a very good list now.” Landon walks towards me, and I can see that her tears have started to fall. At the mention of lists, my own start as well. “But I have done with expecting any course of steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to anything requiring industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the understanding.”

As she finishes her lines, my voice comes out on a wobble. “What’s going on?”

She looks so happy, but her tears keep coming. “You’ll see.”

She squeezes my fingers and goes to stand next to Brody.

My heart starts to pound so loudly in my ears that I can barely hear Vivian reciting Juliet’s speech as she walks over to take her place next to Charlie. I look around wildly. Max comes out of the house in full Georgian costume to match Taylor.

“I am not an angel.” I’m so shocked to hear her reciting the lines from
Jane Eyre
that it actually makes my pulse slow down. “And I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me—for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.” She stops in front of me for a moment, smiling so big I don’t buy the bite of her words for a minute. “Only for you would I degrade myself like this.” She walks over and takes Taylor’s hand.

“For me? What do you mean for me?”

No one in the lineup will do anything but smile at me. I turn in confusion to my brother, who’s just unzipping his jacket to reveal a linen shirt and a perfectly tied cravat hidden underneath it. When I recognize him as the other half of Malin’s
Anna Karenina
duo, I start to cry like a baby. When did he get in on this?

“I always loved you, and if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be.”

Unlike Malin, he doesn’t attempt an accent, but that doesn’t mean his involvement affects me any less. The words feel like an apology, but more than that, they feel like an acceptance. He takes his spot in the line, and I wipe my face with my hands. Surely every bit of makeup I had on has dripped right off. A hand appears next to me, holding a tissue. My eyes travel up the familiar contours of his forearms, and I rear back in surprise. Liam—Viking god, male model, two hundred pounds of corded muscle—is dressed as Peter Pan.

“Wha . . . what’s going on?” I sort of sob.

I swear he blushes. “Can’t you tell?”

He looks around the yard at our family and friends, who are laughing and smiling and sniffling along with me. He looks down at his bright-green tights.

“It’s a grand gesture.” He takes hold of my hand. “I’ve never made one before. How am I doing?”

I laugh and sniffle. “Oh, not bad.”

I look back at everyone watching us, hanging on each word. “You brought in all kinds of help.”

He nods and his expression grows serious. “I wanted everyone to see. I wanted you to know that everyone knows that I’m in love with you.”

I suck in a breath. “Don’t say that. You don’t even really know—”

“You put grape jelly in your scrambled eggs.”

“What?”

“And when you fall asleep at night, you rub your feet together back and forth eight times each.”

Well, now I’m just going to go ahead and bawl.

“And when you draw, you wrinkle your nose in concentration—it’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. You’re kind to everyone you meet, and you have a freakishly fast metabolism, because I’ve never seen anyone eat so much sugar and not gain a pound. You make me happy. You make me laugh. Even if I didn’t want to let myself get to know you, it still happened. I know you.” He emphasizes the words. “There isn’t one thing about you that I don’t like. And I’m sorry that it took losing you for me to understand that. But I do love you, and you have to give me another chance.”

Back behind me I can hear sniffles from every female member of the peanut gallery. My heart wants to pop out of my chest, wants to expand to swallow everyone in the room. Liam Ashton loves me. He loves me back.

I wipe my cheeks again and smile up at his face.

“What’s your line?” I ask playfully.

His smile is unsure. “What?”

“Everyone else had a line, Peter. What’s yours?”

That slow, lazy grin slides across his face, and he takes a step closer until we’re almost touching. I tilt my head back farther when he cups my cheek in his hand. Blue-gray eyes flash with emotion.

“In the beginning, when the first toddler giggled—the first baby to laugh,” he begins haltingly. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s trying to say. That very famous line from Peter Pan, the one about how fairies were made—and he’s messing it up abominably. I know the words by heart, and I open my mouth to correct him before slamming it shut again. There is something so much more precious about his version. “The laughter went shooting out all over the place.” I shake my head in bemusement even as the tears run down my face. J. M. Barrie would roll over in his grave. He leans in close enough to kiss, so proud of himself. “And
that
was how fairies were born.”

My eyes fill up and so does my heart. This man—this beautiful, imperfect, terrible-at-memorizing-literature, hardworking, charming man that I love—loves me back. I grin at him and touch the tip of his hat with a shaky finger.

“You believe in fairies?” I squeak the same line I asked him the first time we met.

He closes the distance between us to whisper against my lips, “I do now.”

Epilogue

Three years later
—
because if ever there was a character who’d love for her book to have an epilogue, it would be Miko.

“You cannot be serious!” Landon calls to me across the table while handing a platter of grilled corn off to Charlie.

The July evening is warm even in the shade, and the breeze that rolls across the Ashtons’ back patio is a welcome break. At least, I think it is. The wind keeps blowing the tablecloth up, and Vivian keeps smoothing it back down in frustration.

“Of course I’m serious.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t understand the attraction. I never have.”

Landon looks genuinely distressed. “But it’s . . . it’s Brad Pitt. He’s classic.”

I shrug and pile a heap of coleslaw onto my plate. “Doesn’t do it for me.”

“What about in
Legends of the Fall
?” Landon tries coercion. “Remember that scene—”

“When he touches the brim of his hat and the water flies off it?” Vivian apparently does know the scene, because she interrupts with a near swoon.

Landon points at her mother-in-law in agreement.

Charlie looks up from his wine glass to his wife. “I didn’t know you liked cowboys.”

“Who doesn’t like cowboys?” Landon asks in confusion.

I shake my head and reach for the platter of veggies.

“What about
Meet Joe Black
?” Malin jumps into the conversation.

“Or
Fight Club
?” Max asks. “I mean, those abs are”—Taylor gives her the side eye—“nothing compared to yours.” She winks at him.

“Good grief,” Landon says when I still shake my head. “He’s gorgeous and fit and he looks good no matter what is happening with his hair. Several of the most beautiful women on this earth have either married him or tried to. What more do you need?”

I flutter my lashes at Liam, who’s sitting next to me. “Oh, nothing at all.”

Someone throws a bread roll at my head. I shrug happily and add it to my plate.

Liam kisses my cheek as his fingers find the back of my neck. I shiver and keep filling my plate with food. It’s usually better not to pounce on him until we’re away from others. They’ve threatened more than once to put us on probation from Sunday Supper if we didn’t agree to stop “accidentally” going at it in public. I’ve learned to restrain myself.

“Since you’re all here, I just wanted to remind you about your father’s birthday party next weekend. We’re heading up to Santa Barbara on Thursday, but the actual dinner is Saturday night. Now remind me: Who’s coming?”

“We’ll be there with bells on,” Landon announces.

“Which days?” Vivian asks.

“All of them, if you can believe it.” Brody reaches out to play with Landon’s fingers. “This workaholic is actually delegating their event that weekend to another staff member. It’s like some kind of miracle.”

Landon sticks her tongue out at his playful ribbing.

For the first couple of years we were in business, we worked ourselves sick doing events. It’s kind of what you have to do to make a name for yourself. In the last year, since we’ve really started to see a bigger profit, we’ve been able to hire more staff. That means that we don’t have to work so many parties on the day of, which means we actually get to have some kind of social life.

“And since I am the staff member that’s been delegated to,” Casidee calls from her end of the table, “I won’t be there. But thank you so much for inviting us.” She grins at her boyfriend, and he smiles right back.

He’s almost completely unrecognizable as the gruff, brooding man she brought to meet us two years ago. It’s amazing how love has changed them both.

“We’re coming,” Malin says. “What day are we going up?” She leans into the handsome man next to her like a cat looking for affection. He slides his fingers down along her arm before reaching to hold her hand. I never would have known how badly Malin needed that kindness, the almost constant reassurance of his touch, but he’s understood it from the very beginning.

“Whenever you want, babe.”

She looks back at her parents with eyes still shining with love. “We’ll be there on Friday then. I have some client work to finish up with.”

Max is busy piling second helpings onto her plate. “We’ll be there,” she throws out quickly.

Taylor rolls his eyes. “We don’t know that for sure—we should check with the doctor.”

Max is already shaking her head as she reaches a hand down to rub her belly. “We’ll be there, Mom. Put us on the list.”

“Jennings, why do you have to be so obstinate?” Taylor picks up her left hand and toys absently with her rings. “You know the doctor said—”

“Hey, Liam, how about you guys?” Max asks her brother. “Which day are you coming up?”

I can’t even blame her for trying to change the subject. We’ve all had to listen to a million arguments between the two of them about her health lately. Two months ago she fainted, and even though the doctor said she was totally fine and there was nothing to worry about, Taylor hasn’t been able to settle down since. Everyone at the table is aware of how quickly this topic can turn heated.

Liam has been sliding his fingers gently across the back of my neck, but he stops to answer his sister.

“That depends,” he says casually.

I frown even as I take another bite of potato salad. I thought we’d already agreed that we’d go up on Friday too.

“On what?” Charlie asks.

Liam slides his hand alongside my plate. When he pulls it back, there’s a small black box in its place.

“On whether or not she says yes.”

More than one person at the table squeals, and I hear Landon gasp in shock. I stop chewing; the piece of bread in my mouth is wedged in my cheek like a squirrel. My eyes are as wide as they’ll go, and I can’t stop staring at the box in awe. I finally come out of the trance long enough to swallow and turn to look at Liam. His eyes are as watery as my own.

“Are you going to open it?” he chokes out.

It’s the same question he asked me years ago, on that first Christmas when he gave me the necklace I’ve never taken off since the day he gave it back to me.

I nod quickly, and the tears in my eyes run down my cheeks. And just like the first time he asked me the question, I answer in the same way. “I’m just memorizing this moment.” He smiles and the blue-gray eyes I used to think were so troubled are filled with happiness. The table is surrounded by so many people I love. Casidee is crying almost as hard as Landon is, as both of their men try to console them. Taylor has stopped worrying over Max long enough to grin at us, and she’s using the reprieve to fight some tears of her own. Charlie is smiling broadly with one arm thrown around Vivian, who’s sobbing happy tears into her dinner napkin. It’s my little sisters and brothers, my second parents, my best friends, my new friends. I smile at Liam in understanding; Sunday Supper was the perfect place to do this.

“Miko,” Liam says quietly. “Will you be my wife?”

I used to wonder if there would ever be a time that I would look at his face and not see the most beautiful man I’ve ever known. Now I know that seeing anything but his beauty is an impossibility. Over the last few years, Liam has become so much more beautiful because I haven’t just seen his face—I’ve seen his heart. I’ve watched him learn to love without reservation, and that love is the greatest gift I’ve ever been given. Even when we fight, even when things are difficult at work and one or both of us are stressed out, I have never doubted his love for me and his commitment to our relationship. As his mother’s health continued to deteriorate and it became too much to deal with on his own, I watched him allow himself to be vulnerable—even when he was afraid. Even when that meant leaning on his family and breaking a promise he should have never been asked to keep.

He has come so far. We both have. I like to believe that we’ve both grown to become beautiful, even if it’s a radiance that only we see in each other.

I grin into his beautiful face now. “Of course I’ll be your wife.”

He laughs and pulls me into arms, and the whole group breaks into cheers. At some point we stop kissing long enough for him to open the box and slide the ring onto my finger. It’s a gorgeous cushion-cut diamond in a setting that’s obviously antique. It’s not the normal engagement ring, but then again, I’m not a normal kind of girl. I kiss him again, so thrilled to have found this man who understands me so well.

We get hugs and pats on the back and kisses on the cheek, and I think my face might split in half because I’m smiling so much. And finally, after hugging my way around the room, I make it to Landon. She pulls me in for a hug, and we’re still holding each other and laughing when Max waddles over to us.

Even though it’s almost the end of her pregnancy, I still fight the urge to cry every time I see her beautiful belly. I place my hands on it now and lean down to speak to her stomach just like I always do. At first it drove Max crazy, but she’s learned to ignore me.

“Baby, did you hear? I got engaged! That means you get to be a flower girl.”

“He can’t be a flower girl when he’s a boy,” Landon counters.

This is a debate we’ve been having for about eight months now. Taylor and Max refuse to find out the sex of the baby, so they can’t really blame everyone for arguing about it endlessly.

“Of course it’s a girl.” I straighten myself back up. “That’s why she and I are already so close.”

I turn back to Max for confirmation, and I’m shocked by the tears rolling down her cheeks. She rolls her eyes and scowls but keeps right on crying. “Stupid pregnancy hormones.” She pulls me in quickly for a hug. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Me too,” Landon adds, grabbing for my hand.

Landon’s blonde curls are practically vibrating with energy, and Max is glowing with joy. I look at them, my two very best friends, and add this moment to the memory of
The Night I Got Engaged
.

Almost five years ago, this little blonde moved to Los Angeles. Who could have ever known that one little girl with an accent as big as her hair, who just wanted to throw parties, could have been the catalyst for all of this?

Back then we started this journey as girls. I can’t believe the women we’ve become. I can’t believe the adventures we’ve already had and the ones still out there waiting for us. Babies, weddings, businesses, family, hard times, sickness, laughter, and tears. The good and the bad, we’ll take it all. The baby kicks in the exact spot my hand is resting on Max’s tummy—one more girl to add to the mix, I’m absolutely sure of it—and we all laugh.

As long as I’ve got these girls, I can handle anything.