Reckless Abandon

by Jeannine Colette

  I turn around and pull the handle on my suitcase up and tilt it toward me. He’s not moving so I think he understands why I have to turn away from him right now.

  “Is there a possibility you won’t want me after I decide?” he asks, his voice nearly breaking.

  My eyes close as the tears stream down my cheeks. I don’t turn around because I know what happens every time I look into his eyes, rabbit hole be damned.

  “Come find me when you make your decision.”

  Those are the last words I say before walking out that door and out of his life.

  It’s been a month. An aching, antagonizing month.

  When I got back to Cedar Ridge, flying commercial, my dad was at the airport with open arms. I didn’t want my parents to hate Alexander so I told them the story. I know it wasn’t my story to tell but they deserve to know why their daughter is upset. More importantly, I needed them to see this wasn’t breaking me like I was a year ago. My inner strength gives me the resiliency to stand tall, no matter what happens.

  I spent the Christmas holiday with my parents and watched the snow fall over Cedar Ridge.

  Every day I waited for my phone to ring.

  It didn’t.

  I waited for the knock on the door.

  It didn’t come.

  I waited for my bed to squeak.

  It did, but only by me.

  On January third, my family gathered at the cemetery.

  I can’t believe my year from hell is over.

  I made it.

  In one year, I had (what I thought was a) heart-wrenching breakup with the man I thought I was going to marry. Now, I laugh at the idea I was ever upset about the douche with a flute.

  In one year, I suffered the devastating loss of my baby brother. My soul still aches for him, but I cry less and I can now say his name out loud.

  In one year, I am starting not to think of the accident as the day my dreams ended. They just changed. I still squeeze my palm and feel the burn tingle up my hand but it hurts less. The therapy I’ve been keeping up has helped a lot. I’ll never play professionally again. That still makes me sad. But I have found a love for teaching.

  The day after Luke’s anniversary, I came back to New York. For the last few weeks I’ve been working hard. Classes resumed after the winter break. Crystal resumed her classes at night. Every day I open the door to my office and look for a rose tucked neatly in my notebook.

  Sadly, there hasn’t been one.

  With each passing day, I find more solace in my new city. Even in the cold, I sit in Washington Square Park and listen to Allyce play “La Vie en Rose,” just for me. Mattie still comes down for dinner once in a while and makes me laugh with his wild stories of a young twenty-something in New York City. And, yes, I still have to rescue him when he’s locked out.

  Crystal and Lisa have taken turns spending time with me after hours. From tea at Balthazar with Crystal, to trips to the Museum of Natural History with Lisa and her kids, they’ve helped me navigate this new chapter of my life. They don’t know why Alexander and I are taking a break but they sense I need the company, and I accept it.

  It was no surprise that when they learned today was my birthday they offered to take me out but I opted out. For some reason, I just feel like going home, drinking a glass of wine on the chesterfield, and listening to music. It doesn’t sound like much but, to me, it’s the perfect way to turn twenty-six.

  I lock my office door and then Crystal’s classroom door, stopping for a second to recall how wonderful it was to watch Alexander teach. He was the most brilliant lecturer of music I’d ever seen. Shame he’ll be too busy to teach again.

  Yes, I’m assuming he chose the empire.

  Let’s face it. It’s been twenty-three days since he had to make a decision. Our love affair was short but it was intense. He could have told me about the monumental decision he had to make. He probably never truly trusted where my intentions were. Even so, I can’t believe he didn’t come for me, to tell me what he chose.

  Better he didn’t. He should have known by the gift I gave him where my heart was. For Christmas, I gave Alexander a photo of his mother playing the cello at Julliard. My mom came up with the idea after he left. I called the school before they closed for the holiday break and someone was kind enough to find a photo of her in their archives. I had it framed and matted for him.

  Wrapping the gift, I had no idea how symbolic it would be when I presented it to him. I wanted him to choose his family.

  Swinging open the heavy stairwell door, I walk down the stairs and nearly stop at the sound of music playing from the concert room on the first floor. It’s not the orchestra sounds I heard a few months ago when Alexander brought the philharmonic here. This is different. The sound is a lonely sound. A single sound. The dance of a piano.

  I open the first floor stairwell door and walk through the lobby, the piano heard cleared the closer I get. The tune is familiar, a song I’ve heard before. A song I heard played in this same room.

  My palms rise up against the oak door that leads to the concert hall. Tacked up against it is an envelope.

  My heart skips a beat, my lungs fall into my stomach. Can it be?

  Please, God, tell me I’m not dreaming.

  Opening the door to the room, I take in the site in front of me.

  Alexander, in the center of the stage, alone. He is seated at the grand piano, the same he played this song on. This time it is just him. A man and his piano and a song that I pray is meant for me.

  Cascaded by the low light hovering over the stage, he is luminous. His golden strands and bronzed skin make him look like an angel. The cut, masculine lines of his face under velvet skin, his eyes closed, feeling the truth in the melody. His broad shoulders, hovering over the keys as he plays with passion, those strong fingers working the keys with conviction.

  And, around him, bouquets and bouquets of yellow roses with red tips.

  Falling in love.

  With the envelope in hand, I open the fold and slide out a simple white paper. On it are words I’ve read before.

  The lyrics to the song are as beautiful as the melody.

  Yet, the most powerful words are those written at the bottom of the page.

  His name. He kept his name. He chose family over fortune.

  I don’t wait for him to finish. I run quickly up to the stage, taking the steps up two at a time and stopping in front of the grand piano. His eyes open and when he sees me, there is little surprise on his face. It’s as if he knew his song would lure me to him.

  “You’re here,” I say as his fingers work the last chords of the songs, softly now.

  “I am,” he says with a smile. I place my hands on my belly in anticipation of what he’s about to say. What his decision was, what he plans to do with his life next, what this means for us . . . My mind is a mess.

  “Sorry I took so long. I had a few things I had to take care of.” Alexander is now standing in front of me.

  I hold up the white paper and take a deep breath. My mouth is dry so my words come out a little course. “Does this mean you made a decision?”

  “It means I did the right thing,” he says, his hand dipping into his pocket.

  I don’t know what “the right thing is” so I just stare at him waiting for clarification. He doesn’t offer me any. Instead he is lowering himself . . .

  . . . down.

  To the floor.

  On his knee.

  He’s on his knee?

  He’s on his knee!

  “Oh my God!” The words fly out of my mouth as he pulls his hand out of his pocket and produces a ring. A gorgeous, solitaire diamond on a metal band. It’s simple and beautiful and so much more than I ever could have asked for.

  “Emma Paige . . . Today is a day my life began and ended. It’s a day I looked on in sadness. But then one day, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, with blonde hair and beautiful brown eyes in nothing but a bathrobe stunned me with a song. I fe
ll for you the second I saw you. And every time I learned something new about you . . . about your passion, your strength, your joy . . . I fell harder and deeper.

  “Fate meant for us to find each other. The day I dreaded is also the day you were brought into this world. How can I hate such a day that created the most perfect vision on the planet? So I waited for today, the day that I no longer want to look on with sadness but as the day my life begins again.

  “Will you marry me? Will you make me the happiest man by being the first person I see at the beginning of the day and the last person I kiss at night? Will you be my wife and be my family? Will you, Emma Paige . . . will you be Mrs. Alexander Gutierrez?”

  Io sono il suo.

  I am his.

  I practically fall to the ground and into his arms. Taking his head in my hands I kiss him. I kiss his eyes and his nose and his mouth and his chin. I kiss him all over and with each kiss I say the words. “Yes.Yes.Yes.Yes.”

  Those full, lush lips widen into a gorgeous smile as he takes my mouth into his, sealing the moment. He holds up my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. I look down at it and can’t believe how stunning it is.

  “This is too much. We can’t afford it,” I say and my heartbeat comes down from its historic elevation.

  “Why can’t we afford it?”

  “Because you kept your name. You gave up the business,” I say and then stagger back. “Didn’t you?”

  He plays with the ring on my finger. “This looks perfect on you—”

  “Alex—”

  “I did. Are you mad?”

  “Mad?” I blink back. “No. I’m relieved. But, you didn’t do this because you thought it’s what I wanted, did you?”

  He slowly shakes his head, his hands holding me from behind, the warmth of them enveloping me. “No, I did it for us. Before you, I never believed anyone would want me as the poor kid from Pittsburgh. I never wanted any of it. I just needed someone to believe in me in order to give it up.”

  “I do believe in you. I want to be your wife even if that means we have nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t say we have nothing—”

  I sit back on my knees and rest my hands on my thighs, my head tilting up at him for an explanation. So he gives me one.

  “I signed the company over to the board of trustees, claiming my name and seizing everything that was bought under Asher Industries. But, I still got to keep a few things.”

  “Huh?” Yeah, that’s all that I can muster.

  “There’s Black Dog,” he says pointing to me as if I’m familiar with it, which I am. “I also own a production company and then there’s stock I purchased with my own money and a trust fund from my great-grandfather that’s untouched.”

  “Oh.” My lips purse together in confusion. “Alex, that’s not considered poor.”

  “It is when you consider the fact I just signed over a billion-dollar business.”

  I laugh and shake my head at my sweet Alexander. He is going to have to give up his three thousand–dollar scotch. The plane is definitely gone too. I hope he likes shaving his own beard.

  “How were you able to keep the recording studio? Wasn’t that an Asher property?”

  “Actually, It’s an Emma Paige property. I transferred it to your name the day I saw you teaching that boy how to hold a violin. I fell in love with you in that very moment. Something changed in me. All the anger I was holding, all the doubt I had vanished. And when you threw that violin at me in the back of the car? That was when I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life chasing you until you came back to me.”

  I feel like the Grinch whose heart grew three sizes because mine is about to explode. I’m not going to lie. I’m scared. I am absolutely petrified that this is too good to be true. Frightened how tomorrow it could all fall apart. I could lose Alexander and I could lose myself.

  But I’m not going to let the possible hurt keep me from experiencing happiness. Never again. I am going to live and I am going to love and I am going to burn.

  “What about the school? Will the Juliette Academy have to close?” The sudden guilt at what his decision means to the future of the greatest school I’ve ever known his me hard.

  “The school is fine. They gave it to me as a parting gift. Looks like no one on the board wants to be bothered with it. What do you say, wanna run a school with me?”

  “I’d love nothing more.” And it’s the truth. It’s not the life I chose but it’s the one that I was meant to live. “Thank you for choosing us.”

  “Thank you for choosing me.”

  ALEXANDER

  A glass of Glen in my hands and the sun on my back. Not a bad way to start your day.

  Especially when it’s going to end with Emma Gutierrez in your bed.

  My hands are wrapped around the hand of the only woman I have ever truly loved. And she looks radiant.

  Her hair is down and loose like the first time I saw her. She asked if I had any special requests for our wedding day and this was it: to have her hair down.

  I remember that day like it was yesterday. I had just sent Malory back to the mainland when Mateo, our deck hand, alerted me of Devon’s arrival. I was looking for him when I heard a song coming from the one room on the ship no one was allowed. My music room was my space for personal reflection. The one place I could be me, the real me.

  When I heard music coming from that room, I was livid. Knuckles ready for a fight, I stormed in there to find out who could be so defiant. Imagine my surprise to find an angel.

  Long blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, and a mouth so lush and plump, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

  I was Odysseus and she my siren, calling me in from the sea.

  The light from the two-story glass windows poured in and cast a glow upon her as she swayed to the music. Her eyes were closed and as much as I wanted to see the soul behind them, I begged her with my breath not to. I knew when she opened them she’d see. She would see me. And she did.

  The most mesmerizing pair of brown eyes looked back at me and I knew they would be able to look right through me and down deep into my dark soul.

  She looked at the worst part of me and healed it. She saved me and I will spend the rest of my life proving to her I was worth saving.

  “What are you thinking about?” Emma whispers into my ear, her hair blowing in the warm Mediterranean breeze. She looks exquisite in her white gown. Just over an hour ago, she walked toward me on the arm of her father. The sight of her brought me to tears.

  Yes, I am man enough to admit I cried at the site of my bride walking down the aisle in a pair of white Sperry Top-Siders. Yes, my bride is wearing boat shoes and I wouldn’t have it any other way. While everyone was looking at her, as they should be, she was staring at me. With each step she took, she held my soul with every ounce of her being. And I gave it up freely.

  Today she is mine. And I am hers.

  It also helps that my wife looks gorgeous and way too sexy to be in the presence of God. She chose a form-fitting lace gown that hugs her gorgeous ass and narrows at her waist, the one I love to grab when she’s on top of me, riding me, loving me. I can’t wait to peel that dress off her tonight. Her supple breasts are about to pour out the top and it’s killing me not to bite down on them.

  Yes, I am still a man. I can say those things about my wife.

  My wife. Jesus Christ, she’s really mine. And she married me without the Asher name. She married me for me.

  And I am so goddamn in love I’d die if she ever left me.

  She’s still looking at me, waiting for an answer. I could go for sweet and I could go for lewd. Instead I’ll go for a kiss. Leaning down, I tug a hair behind her ear, wrap my hand around her jaw and kiss her, hard.

  Emma responds easily, wrapping her lips around mine and lets her tongue glide across mine, caressing, loving, tempting—

  Clink, Clink, Clink, Clink

  Our moment is disrupted by the clanging of sp
oons on glasses as is customary at weddings when the bride and groom kiss. Emma laughs and buries her head into my chest. In return, I wrap my arm around her and hold her into me, laughing myself at the joy of the moment.

  “Get a room!” Leah chants from the other side of the room, her swollen belly keeping her from drinking the limoncello.

  “Oh, hush, you!” Pam play slaps her daughter.

  “You can’t hit a pregnant woman!” Leah chides and rubs her arm as if she was just beaten. She turns to Adam for comfort. “Honey, tell her she has to be nice to me. I’m carrying her grandchild.”

  Adam just shakes his head. “I won’t let anyone be anything but perfect towards you, baby. I got you.” He kisses his wife and rubs her stomach. They’re expecting a little boy in a few months. His name will be Matthew. No one was surprised to hear that.

  Looking around the room, I feel at peace. The open-air restaurant overlooks the Mediterranean Sea, overlooks the very spot where Emma nearly drowned and was recused by Devon. If it weren’t for her inability to trust strangers with her belongings I never would have met her. She is still crazy about her belongings. She bought a white fanny pack to go with her wedding dress. Leah wouldn’t allow it.

  Emma leans her head into my side and her nose nuzzles the skin of my neck. I lean down into her. “Are you sniffing me?”

  “Yes.” She says, her lips skimming my ear. “You smell of sea and soap. It brings back beautiful memories.”

  When I proposed to Emma, I knew there was only one place in the world we would be married: on the island of Capri. As I don’t have any family and no one other than Devon I’d care to invite, Emma and I opted to keep it small. So we flew eight of our closest friends and family to Italy to share this moment with us.

  Seated at a rectangular table are Emma’s parents, her grandmother, Leah and Adam and Devon. Lisa couldn’t leave the kids but Crystal and Mattie are here. They offered to pay their own way but I wouldn’t allow it. They have both been incredible friends to Emma, especially during our weeks apart.

  On the table in front of each guest is a vase of yellow roses with red tips, the same ones I gave her time and time again portraying one true meaning: Falling in love.