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“This is it. You and me. Together, always.”
“Always.”
Evan slides the ring onto my finger. It feels heavy and cold, the large ruby glimmering like fire on my finger. And that’s when I realize…
“Is this?”
“Yes. It’s my grandmother’s ring. She knew how much you loved it. She gave it to me before she passed away because she knew you were going to be my wife.”
Tears of joy stream down my face as I stare at the ring in awe.
I lift my head and kiss him. Him. My best friend. Now, my fiancé.
Our lips collide in a fiery, passionate kiss that ignites every nerve in my body and seals our promise to each other. I can feel a wave of emotions crashing over me as he wraps his strong arms around me, lifting me effortlessly. I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing myself closer to him.
Our bodies meld together, heat radiating between us as our tongues dance in sync. I moan in pleasure, feeling the intense connection between us like never before. The world around us fades away as we lose ourselves in each other, consumed by the love and desire that has always been there, waiting to be unleashed.
I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, steady and sure. It matches the rhythm of my own heart, as if we’re finally becoming one. I bury my hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I whisper against his lips, “Happy birthday, Evan.”
He pulls back slightly, his eyes shining with love and happiness. “Thank you, Dolly,” he whispers back, his voice full of emotion. “This is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for.”
Epilogue
Emmy
Six months later
Paris in the spring is like a fairy tale. The smell of freshly roasted coffee wafts through the cobbled streets, mingling with the aroma of butter and delicious pastries. I lean over the iron railing and look at the street below. People are so small from this height that they almost look like ants to me.
From this outstanding height of almost one thousand feet, the Champs de Mars below is a green oasis of spring delights. The creamy organza of my wedding dress sways lightly in the Parisian wind, like a cloud among clouds up here. I smooth down the Watteau train and hold the delicate tulle between my fingers so that it doesn’t get tangled.
“Wow, you look like an angel,” Jo says.
She and Larisa emerge from inside the champagne bar, holding tall glasses filled with the bubbly liquid.
“Do you really think so? Is Evan going to like it?”
They both start laughing. “Honey, you could’ve showed up here wearing a pair of pajamas and he would have still begged you to marry him!” Larisa says.
“Guys, come on…” I say, even though I’m secretly pleased by this.
I take a few steps and can feel the large and heavy wedding dress shift around me, almost like water. The corset is laced tightly, making me feel like a princess. Larisa and Jo hold the train for me, and we step inside the champagne bar where our little party is gathered.
“Hey, there you are!” Jacob greets us. “Emmy, you look incredible! Congratulations! Evan is a lucky man!”
“Thank you so much, Jacob! And thank you for securing this place for us. I mean … the top of the Eiffel Tower? In April? Getting married to my best friend in Paris in the spring? I feel like I’m dreaming,” I tell him.
“Please, don’t even mention it. This is what you deserve. Both of you. Emmy, your story is so special. As a couple, you and Evan deserve the world.” Jacob hugs me.
Jo looks at him with so much love and pride in her eyes, that I simply don’t know how she doesn’t burst.
From behind him, Larisa and Gianluca step forward as well, greeting me.
“Emmy, you look … meravigliosa!” Gianluca says in his unmistakable Italian accent. “Congratulazioni a tutti due, eh?”
“Thank you, Gianluca, you’re so kind!”
“But I have to say, Timothee Chalamet was so jealous when I told him that you’re getting married. He really had his eye on you,” Gianluca says.
