The Redemption (35 page)

“Mmm hmm,” I say. I pat my pocket again.

“Like, I dunno, you can feel their collective
wisdom,
” she says. “Like, it’s a physical
thing,
just floating in the air
.
”

“Mmm hmm.”

The hiking trail isn’t particularly demanding nor is it all that scenic on this side of the mountain. But this hike isn’t what we’re here for—it’s just a means to an end. Oh my God, I can’t wait to finally spill the beans and tell her why we’re here.

“It also makes me think, ‘Hey, these were real people,’ you know? Like, it makes it so clear these weren’t just
names
in an ancient history textbook. They were
people
just like you and me. They ate, slept, made love, cried, laughed, loved...  You know what I mean?”

“Mmm hmm.”

She stops short and I almost walk into her back. She wheels around to look at me. “Are you listening to me, Jonas?”

“Totally,” I say. “Every word. I totally agree with everything you’ve said.” But I don’t know what the fuck she’s just said. I can’t think straight right now. All I can think about is asking this beautiful woman to be my wife—the mother of my future children.

She studies me briefly. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

“You’re acting weird.”

My chest tightens. Does she know? “I am?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think I’m just . . . deep in thought.”

“About what?”

“You.”

She studies me. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Good thoughts?”

“The best thoughts. You’re the goddess and the muse, Sarah Cruz. There’s nothing but goodness when my thoughts are about you.”

“Oh, Jonas.” She smiles. “You’re so sweet.” She turns back around happily and catches up to the guide on the trail. “So, anyway, what part did you like best?”

What part of what did I like best? What the fuck was she just talking about? I try to recall what the fuck she just said.
Real people
. Yeah, that’s right. She said they’re not just names in a history book, they’re real people. She must have been talking about our walking tour of Athens on our first full day here.

“The Acropolis,” I answer. “There’s nothing like seeing the ground where Plato and Aristotle actually walked. That’s what captured my imagination when I was eighteen and it was even more magical to see it with you.” Oh my God. Stringing together so many coherent words just took a lot out of me. There’s only one thing I want to talk about right now—and it’s not the Acropolis. I’m dying to finally let loose with the speech I’ve been practicing in my head, day and night, for a solid three weeks.

“Yeah, me, too,” she says. “That was amazing—especially getting to see it with you.” She swivels her head around and shoots me a lovely smile.

I smile back. Or, at least I think I do. Who knows what the fuck my face looks like right now—my facial muscles are not my own. Holy shit, I’m losing my mind. I’ve been dreaming of this moment nonstop since we left Uncle William’s house a month ago.

Of course, Uncle William fell head-over-heels in love with Sarah the minute he met her. In fact, I’m positive Uncle William reacted so well to the news of my departure from Faraday & Sons because Sarah was there, casting some kind of spell on him. Sure, when Josh joined us on the second night and dropped the “I’m leaving the company, too” bomb on poor Uncle William, that made things a little harder for him to swallow. But, call me crazy, my uncle actually seemed relieved by Josh’s news a little bit, almost like he’d been waiting for the Faraday brothers’ simultaneous departure from the company for a long time and now he could exhale. All in all, the whole weekend went surprisingly well—and I’m sure Sarah was mostly to thank for that.

“You gonna marry this girl?” Uncle William asked me after dinner on the second night, the minute Sarah had left the dining room to use the bathroom.

“Absolutely,” I answered, shocking myself with how easily the word came out. It felt enthralling to admit my intentions out loud—especially to my family. “As soon as humanly possible, in fact.”

“That’s awesome, bro,” Josh said. “Does she know?”

That’s when my knee started jiggling under the table. “No,” I said, my chest constricting. “Am I supposed to
ask
her if I can
ask
her?” It was an honest question.

Josh laughed. “No, Jonas, you dumbshit. That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying if you’re gonna surprise the girl, then make sure you blow her socks off. This is the story she’s gonna be telling her grandkids one day. So don’t fuck it up.”

Well, duh, as Sarah says. I already knew that. And yet, at Josh’s words, I suddenly felt like I was gonna throw up, and I haven’t stopped feeling that way since. All throughout the past month, even as I’ve been busy as fuck transitioning out of Faraday & Sons and into Climb and Conquer, I’ve grown increasingly anxious. I’m not nervous about making Sarah my wife—fuck no, that’s the thing I’m least anxious about in my whole life—I’m just worried I won’t be able to deliver the fairytale proposal my precious baby so richly deserves.

“So this is Mount Olympus?” Sarah says, looking around. “Huh. Not what I expected.”

“What’d you expect?”

She pauses. “Oh, I dunno. I thought maybe there’d be an old guy with a long white beard holding lightning bolts up here.”

I chuckle. “Actually, little known fact: Zeus is so old by now, he’s sitting in a rocking chair at the top of the mountain, doing Sudoku.”

She laughs. “It’s super cool to think about the ancient Greeks looking up at this very mountaintop, imagining the gods up here.”

The guide takes this as his cue (thankfully, because I’ve just exhausted my ability to converse for the foreseeable future) and he begins a lengthy explanation about Mount Olympus as the mythological home of the Twelve Olympians.

Sarah listens to him with rapt attention as I tune out.

I love how Sarah hasn’t once asked me why we’re hiking up Mount Olympus. I guess she thinks the mere existence of a mountain, anywhere in the world, is enough of a draw for me to suggest climbing it—which, normally, I suppose, would be true. But today isn’t a normal day.

We turn a corner in the trail and traverse over a small crest, and, just like that, we arrive at our destination—a small plateau spanning just below one of the mountain’s craggy peaks. I’m relieved to see that our next set of guides is already here, exactly as planned, awaiting us with all appropriate gear.

Sarah stops short on the trail, apparently seeing the crew awaiting us, too. She whips around to face me. “Are you effing kidding me right now?”

She must have seen the two colorful parachutes spread out on the ground.

I smile at her. “No, I am not effing kidding you right now.”

She glares at me.

“We’re going to jump off Mount Olympus, baby. And then we’re gonna paraglide through the air, all the way to the beautiful, white-sand beaches of the Aegean Sea.”

She smashes her lips together.

“And it’s gonna be fucking awesome.”

“Have I mentioned I
hate
heights?”

“Many times.”

She blinks rapidly. “Are you trying to make me hate you?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Then you suck at whatever you’re trying to do because I
hate
you right now.”

I laugh. “Come on, baby. Let me show you what we’re gonna do.”

Sarah
 

I’m shaking. I really, really hate heights. “Jonas, I don’t know about this,” I say. I’m stuffed into a thick flight suit and the guy who’s going to pilot my paraglider is securing my harness and double-checking all his lines, getting ready to jump off the frickin’ mountain with me strapped to his body like an infant in a papoose. I can’t imagine what part of this idea made Jonas think:
Sarah.

“Looks good, baby,” Jonas says. He steps up really close to me and double-checks the strap on my helmet. “Now remember, all you have to do is sit back and relax and enjoy the panoramic views as they segue from mountains to fields to sparkling sea.”

He’s quite a salesman, I must admit. He makes torture sound almost lovely.

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride. That’s all you ever have to do when you’re with me.”

“You’ve already proved that to me a thousand times over—every single night, in fact—and I’ve
surrendered
to you countless times and acknowledged you as my lord-god-master. Why do you need me to enact yet another metaphor to emphasize your point?”

He rolls his eyes. “Because for once in my life, I’m not talking about sex, baby. I’m talking about
life.
This is a metaphor for
life
—for our life together
.
I want you to know that when you’re with me, all you ever have to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride—because I’ll always take care of you.”

Well, that was actually a very sweet little speech. He obviously put a lot of thought into it. And yet, I can’t help myself from being irritated. I really, really hate heights. “Yeah. You’ll always take care of me, other than when you’re pushing me off high places, even though I’m scared to death of heights.”

He looks distressed.

I sigh. I’m so mean. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jonas.” I grab his hand. “I’m sorry. Tell me what you wanted to say. This is all a grand metaphor for
life,
not sex—if I sit back and relax and enjoy the ride . . .  Come on, baby. I’m mean and horrible. You put a lot of thought into this. I’m listening. Continue.”

His cheeks flush.

“Please. Seriously. I’m listening.”

He clears his throat. “Even when something scares you, if you’re willing to take a leap of faith—with me—you might discover you enjoy the ride more than you ever imagined possible,” he says softly.

“That’s lovely. A fantastic metaphor. Thank you for that.”

He’s gaining confidence again. “Ah, but this is only one of
many
metaphors I’ve planned for you today.”

“Oh yeah? Is today Metaphor Day, my sweet Jonas?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Today is Jonas and Sarah’s Metaphorical Adventure.”

“Oh, how you love your metaphors, Jonas Faraday.”

“I really do.” He takes a step forward, right up into my face. “May I tell you about the metaphor you’ve already unknowingly enacted for me today?”

“Please do.”

“Our hike up Mount Olympus. ‘Twas a metaphor.”

“’Twas?”

“’Twas. You’ll recall I followed you the entire way up the trail. Do you know why I did that?”

I shake my head, grinning. He’s so cute.

“Because I’ve always got your back, my love—and because I’d follow you to the ends of the earth. ‘Twas a double metaphor. I get double points.”

I tilt my head at him. He’s thought quite a bit about all this, hasn’t he?

“Next metaphor. We’re standing on the highest peak in all of Greece—Mount Olympus—the home of the gods.” He puts his hand on my cheek. “Do you know why I wanted to bring you here—to this particular mountaintop, specifically?”

“Because you’re a sadist?” I say softly, but my tone is much friendlier than my actual words.

 He takes a long, deep, steadying breath and moves his hand to my shoulder. “Sarah Cruz, I brought you here, to this specific spot on planet earth, for two reasons.” He grins. “Double points
again.
”

I smile broadly.

“First, this is the highest peak in all of Greece—which means I am therefore compelled to climb it and shout to the world about my undying love for you.”

Oh my God.
 

“But we’re not here simply because Mount Olympus is the tallest peak,” he continues. “We’re also here because it’s the home of the gods, Sarah, which means it’s
your
rightful home.” His eyes sparkle. “You’re the goddess and the muse, Sarah Cruz. My precious baby, you are every Greek goddess, rolled into one.”

“Oh, Jonas.”

“You’re Aphrodite,” he says, “the goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, and sex—the hottest fucking sex the world has ever seen, oh my God.”

I blush.

“You’re Athena—the goddess of wisdom, courage, inspiration, law, justice, strength, and strategy. You’re so fucking smart, baby—you blow me away.”

I bite my lip.

“You’re Artemis—the protector of women. Baby, your gigantic heart—the way you so genuinely care about helping women and making the world a better place—it’s my favorite thing about you, by far.”

I can’t believe he’s saying all this. I’m swooning.

“But, wait, there’s more.” His mouth twists into a crooked grin. “You’re my Demeter, too—the goddess of the harvest, life, and sustenance. Baby, you’re
my
sustenance. I physically
need
you like a flower needs sunshine and soil and water—you
feed
me, baby, right at my roots.
You give me life.
”

Holy crap—my knees just wobbled.

“And, of course, My Magnificent Sarah, let us not forget, you’re also Hera.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “The goddess of
marriage
.”

Come again?

He beams at me.

He’s speaking metaphorically, right?

“My Magnificent Sarah, you’re all of these powerful and revered and beautiful goddesses, all rolled into one.”

He wasn’t being literal just now when he used the word
marriage
, was he?

“But on top of all that, let’s not forget, you’re also the
muse
, Sarah Cruz—the inspiration for female beauty itself. You are
woman-ness
from the ideal realm.”

Oh my God. This is all just so over-the-top—so beautiful—so
epic.
“Oh, Jonas,” I sigh. For reasons I’ll never fully understand, my beautiful hunky-monkey boyfriend is flat-out addicted to mustard and, thank the Lord, I just happen to be a big ol’ vat of it.

“And that, my dearest love, is why we’re standing atop Mount Olympus, the home of the gods and the highest peak in all of Greece.” He sighs like he’s greatly relieved, and then he takes another deep breath, apparently gearing up to say something more.