Livvy (57 page)

“Thank you.”

“I love you,” he says. “There are hundreds of moments like this that we’ve shared. Time after time, I would think that there was something extraordinary about us. Not about you. Not about how I felt about you. But about
us
. It gave me so much confidence that I faced your dad not once, but twice, to make sure I was the first guy who’d get to prove his worth to you.

“Because you’d already proven your worth to me.”

I swallow back more tears, a little overwhelmed.

“We grew up together, Olivia. With only a few years separating us, we went from children to teenagers, and teenagers to adults. We helped each other along in subtle ways that really didn’t seem so spectacular until you look back now and see where those moments got us.

“I am so grateful for you, baby. For sharing yourself with me. For sharing your paints,” he says, wiping away a tear. “Your winter hats when I wouldn’t have one on snowy days. Your contemplative silence. Your suggestions when we’d create together. Your optimism. Your constructive criticism. Your after school snacks.”

“I was grateful you’d eat the celery sticks Dad would send me. So grateful,” I return, laughing.

“...for your first date,” he continues, “and your first kiss. The stability of your two loving parents. Your big crazy family.”

“The one that’s upstairs,” I remind him.

“The one and only,” he nods, kissing me again. “I’m grateful you shared your time with me. Your theories. Your innocence,” he adds blushing. “Your gentle touch. Your love... and most importantly, your life. You could choose to spend this lifetime with anyone–or even alone–”

“But I choose you,” I tell him. “Choisie.” I touch my necklace.

“Choisie,” he repeats. “And for that, I’m most grateful. Olivia, give me the chance to find a million more reasons to be grateful for who you are, and what you do, and what you give to my life.”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling his hands pick up my left one. His thumb brushes against my ring finger, the one that held his promises.

“I’m choosing you to be my one and only bride, Olivia. And if you still choose me, with my faults and shortcomings, I promise you the world. I will work hard so you’ll never want for anything. I promise to be attentive every day. To love you every day. To honor you every day. To never be too far away from you.”

“Five thousand miles,” I say, feeling even sadder in this moment realizing I’ll be leaving behind a fiancé. In a way, though, I feel like we’re stronger, as if the bond is sturdier and harder for either of us to break.

Jon shakes his head. He kisses me again, with all the assurance he can muster. “No, I promise to never be too far away from you. How does two hundred miles sound?”

“It sounds like you’re teasing me,” I tell him.

“I got a summer job in Curitiba. It’s a forty minute flight. I can spend Thursday nights to Sundays with you every week, if you’ll have me...”

“Oh, Jon!” I exclaim, kissing his lips and his chin and his jaw and his cheeks and everywhere I can reach.

He’s laughing at me. “I think you’re more excited about that than about this,” he says, holding up the ring between us.

“Finding out you’ll be close eases my current insecurities,” I tell him. “Finding out you’ll be with me for the rest of our lives ensures that I won’t have to face any future insecurities alone anymore. So trust me, I’m excited about both... I’m just pacing myself with this... with this... wait, is it a proposal?” I finally ask him.

“Have I convinced you that I’ll be a good partner?”

“The best and the only one,” I respond.

“Then, Olivia Holland, I would be forever grateful if you would choose me as your husband, because I want you to be my wife.”

“Okay,” I whisper, finding it difficult to speak with the lump in my throat.

“Will you marry me? Someday. It doesn’t have to be soon,” he says quickly. “Just someday.”

“Of course,” I choke out in a sob as he slides the beautiful ring on my finger. After we both look at it for a few seconds, my lips find his, and we kiss sweetly through smiles for at least ten minutes.

“I just want you to know that this is what I want, and that I’ll respect what we have as if those vows have already been exchanged.”

“Yes, yes, yes, okay, yes!”

“Do you like the ring?”

“It’s incredible.”

“I remember you telling me about the green ring Jack gave to Emi when he proposed. I thought I’d keep tradition alive... it seems to have worked well for them.”

“I love the sentiment, too,” I say, admiring it.

“It’s Brazilian Tourmaline.”

“It’s gorgeous... I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I bought the stone over spring break, and your mother helped to make sure the ring I designed for you would be acceptable.”

“You designed it?”

“Everything but the blue stones at the bottom. I had selected the diamonds,” he says, holding my hand up closer to my face to I can see the details in the band. I hadn’t even noticed. “Your mom thought it was romantic to have the two blue stones, one on either side, symbolizing us... and then the one blue stone in the center.”

“Becoming one,” I say, blushing again. “Good job, Mom,” I mutter. “It’s very romantic. Okay, good, so Dad knows.”

“Jack knows. Jack finally approves of me,” he says with a sigh.

“Dad finally came to his senses. And how does he feel about the Brazil arrangement?”

“A little better with the ring, I think. And the promises.”

“I love you so much, Jon.” I kiss him once more.

“I want to give you this, too,” he says, opening the ring box and showing me a crumpled up piece of paper. “That was the claim slip that you almost discovered a few weeks ago.”

“No way,” I laugh.

“You almost ruined the surprise.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t.”

“Well, you still did, technically. We have reservations at eight at Recette so I can propose.”

“Recette? Can we still go?”

“Of course. And we’re coming back to a little impromptu engagement/going away party. Hope that’s okay.”

“This is the perfect send off...”

“For us,” Jon says.

“For us.”

I hug him tightly, holding him and feeling his heart pound against my chest. It’s the best feeling in the world right now, because I’ve never felt more alive and free, either.

“They’re probably wondering where we are,” I tell him, finally standing up and holding my hand out to help him up.

“I’m sure they are,” Jon agrees, standing and straightening his jeans. He opens my bedroom door for me, and my parents and his mom stand a few feet back, not a dry eye to be found.

“Seriously?” I ask, a little amused. Jon’s laughing, too. “Is there no privacy?”

“Not in my house,” Dad says smugly, then holds his hand out to Jon. “You did perfectly, son. Welcome to the family.”

“We’re a hugging family, Jacks,” Mom says, pulling him into a tight hug. Jon’s mom looks at my ring first, then embraces me.

“Good choice, Jonny,” she says to him, but before I can even question her comment, she adds, “on the girl and the ring.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He steps behind me, hugging his mother while Dad watches me, waiting for me to come to him.

“I love you, Daddy,” I cry.

“I love you, Livvy. God, how I love you. Congratulations, my little Contessa.”

JACK - CHAPTER 21

“Mr. Holland,” the flight attendant says softly with a tap on my shoulder, “we will be landing in Floripa in about thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Maurine,” I whisper, blinking my eyes rapidly to adjust to the light in the cabin. Placing my hand on Emi’s leg and moving my thumb against her smooth knee, I admire my wife in her last few minutes of sleep. She rests peacefully against the window, the second glass of wine finally permitting her to doze off. It’s the first time we’ve made the trip that she has been able to temper her enthusiasm and allow herself to unwind. She’s always so excited to see Livvy.

I can’t wait to see her, either. It’s been six months since her last trip to Manhattan, and I miss my little girl.

“Dad?” Jackson’s voice cuts through the silence abruptly. The deeper timbre of it still surprises me. I peer through the seats behind me, and he takes out one earbud. The music continues loudly in his other ear.

“Turn that down, son, you’ll go deaf.”

“I won’t either,” he argues, but complies. “I left my razor at home.”

“You can use mine,” I tell him with a shrug.

“I don’t like yours,” he says.

“Jacks,” Emi says groggily, her eyes still closed, “he can’t use a safety razor.”

“He can,” I argue with her, “if he’d just listen to my instruction.”

“Trey, we’ll stop and get one. Or maybe Jon has one you can use.” Jackson raises his eyebrows, as if asking my permission. I simply nod my head and turn around. “How much longer?” Emi says to me, placing her hand on top of mine.

“Twenty-five minutes.” She finally opens her pale green eyes, the bright sun dancing in them as she faces me. We lean into one another for a kiss.

“Do you think she’ll be happy to see us?”

“Undoubtedly,” I assure her. “I’m sure she’ll be utterly surprised. The whole family showing up unexpectedly on her twenty-sixth birthday? Yeah, she’s going to be happy.”

“It was so sweet of Jon to plan this for her. I just hate that we can’t see her until tomorrow. I don’t know why we can’t see her tonight.”

“Because the party isn’t until tomorrow. The impact will be better if we wait for everyone to get in. Plus, you only got two hours of sleep.”

“I won’t sleep tonight. I just want to see her.”

“We’ll call her when we get settled in the hotel. You can rest well knowing she’s less than a mile from us... that’s a lot fewer than five thousand.”

“I guess,” she nearly sighs, beginning to gather up her things in preparation for our landing.

Once we’re on the ground, Jackson is the first to get out of his seat, opening the overhead bins and bringing the rest of our luggage down. I stand next to him, wondering how my son has grown up so quickly. It seems like yesterday we were playing t-ball together in the backyard. Now, he’s two inches taller than me, a star on the basketball team and one of the most popular kids in his class. When he was younger, I was certain he would favor his mother, but as he’s matured, he has taken on more of my features. Emi’s strawberry blonde hair and pale skin are the only genetic contributions left of hers. Just looking into his blue eyes alone, anyone would know he was my son.

“I’ve got it, Mom,” he says to Emi when she tries to take her laptop bag from him. “You can steer the rolling luggage.”

“Thanks, honey.” Stepping aside, I let her out of our row and pass off the handle of the smallest suitcase to her. As soon as she has descended the last step of the private jet, a man is there to take the bag from her. We follow him to a town car where another young man I’ve come to admire is standing by the trunk. He walks quickly toward my wife.

“Jon!” Emi exclaims, happy to see Livvy’s fiancé. They embrace tightly, only letting go when I make it to the car. Jon shakes Jackson’s hand first, doing a silly handshake that they’d concocted one summer a few years ago. He then holds his hand out to me. I shake it once, but pull him in for a quick hug and a pat on the back. Although he isn’t officially family, he still feels like another son to me. It’s hard to believe I’ve known him longer than Jackson’s been alive.

“How are you?” I ask him.

“Great. How was the flight?”

“Smooth flying,” I tell him.

“Can we see her tonight?” Emi cuts in before I can say anything else.

“Party’s tomorrow, Emi,” Jon says. “I know you’re excited, but I really want this to be a big surprise.”

She frowns a little.

“She has plans tonight, anyway. Plus, she’s had a long day,” he adds, “as I assume you’ve had, too.”

“Is everything okay with her?”

“Yeah, she was just putting some final touches on this piece downtown. You’ll be amazed,” he says assuredly. “It’s bold and... well, it makes a statement like no other. Public opinion is very favorable, as always.”

We get settled into the car and start heading toward the hotel.

“How’s your work?” I ask Jon.

“It’s good,” he says.

“When’s that desire to come back to New York going to kick in?”

“You know?” he says contemplatively. “I’ve started to look at some opportunities there.”

“Don’t get her hopes up,” I tell him quickly when I see Emi’s eyes widen in disbelief. She’s been waiting for any hint of news that would bring them back home since the moment they decided to live here four years ago.

“Well, Manhattan finally seems to be warming up to the idea of major street art initiatives. You know this is what she loves to do.”

“I know,” Emi says.

“We’ll come back. It was never our plan to be Brazilians forever... although it’s been nice.”