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“I hope you don’t mind I had it delivered here, rather than to your condo,” I say, even though her body language makes it clear she’s thrilled.
“Thank you!” she shrieks happily, hugging and kissing her beautiful new instrument like it’s her long lost child. “I love you, baby!” she coos. But she’s not talking to me. She’s talking to her new piano.
Without hesitation, Laila slides onto the piano bench and whips off the introduction to one of her biggest hits. “Listen to that sound! It’s glorious!” She gasps. “Should I play you the song I wrote for you?” I open my mouth, but before I’ve said a word, she answers her own question. “No, let’s wait. I’m way too excited to see the rest of the house. I won’t even remember my lyrics. Come on!”
She leaps up and takes my hand and drags me into the adjacent kitchen. And then proceeds to hug the island and every professional-grade appliance. She opens cupboards and drawers and fawns over every little detail. She holds up a cheese grater. And then a can opener. A couple pots and pans. All of which make her “ooh” and “aah” like she’s watching a spectacular fireworks display.
“How do you have all this stuff already?” she says.
“I bought it fully furnished, with Reed’s help, and then Amalia and Georgina helped me with the finishing touches.” I tell her the story of how I wound up staying a couple days at Reed’s house after Mimi died, while Laila was still in Cabo. “Great news,” I say. “Amalia said she’ll come over once a week to hang out with me. I mean, technically, she said she’ll come over to ‘help me with the house.’ But I’m going to make her sit down and hang out with me whenever she comes.”
Laila giggles. “I can’t believe you’ve kept this secret from me, all this time.”
“It’s been excruciating,” I admit. “I’ve almost blown it, like, a thousand times.” I kiss her cheek. “Sorry about the meal we’re not eating back at the mansion. I’ll text the chef and tell him to take it home to his family.”
“Why don’t we order cioppino to be delivered from Salvatore’s?” she asks.
“I already did.”
Laila laughs at that coincidence, that we’ve both planned the same celebratory meal for tonight, while I pull out my phone and send a text to our chef. We finish the tour of the house, with Laila reacting to each and every room with even more excitement than I’d hoped. And, finally, when the tour is done, I realize it’s time. This is it.
“While we wait for the food to arrive,” I say, “I have a little surprise for you, out on the balcony.”
“So many surprises!” Laila gushes, taking my hand and letting me lead her.
When we get to the balcony, I tell her to stay put at the railing. And then, with my heart crashing even louder than the waves in the nearby ocean, I grab a rectangular, wrapped box from behind a chair and bring it to her.
“For you,” I say, handing her the wrapped box.
After thanking me, Laila rips open the paper . . . and immediately bursts into tears when she beholds the token of my affection inside. It’s a rose encased in glass. The real-life version of the enchanted rose from Beauty and the Beast.
“Oh, Adrian.”
“Laila,” I say, my voice becoming thick with emotion. “Thanks to you, I’ve learned to love and to be loved, before the last petal has fallen. Thanks to you, I’ve transformed from The Beast into your prince. Hopefully, the kind of prince who won’t disappoint you.”
She touches her heart and whispers, “You could never disappoint me.”
“I hope this goes without saying, but I promise to keep fucking you like a Beast, forevermore, even if I’m going to be the Prince now, in all other ways.”
Laila laughs and nods with tears in her eyes. “I love you so much.”
I inhale a deep breath, take the box from Laila and put it down, and then take both her hands in mine. “Laila, what I’m trying to say with this Beast metaphor is that, from this day forward, you’re not only ‘allowed’ to go into the West Wing, it’s yours. Because the entire castle is yours. Literally and figuratively. Everything I own, everything I am, it’s all yours. Forever.”
“Oh, Adrian. I love you.”
Shaking, I pull a ring box from my pocket—the one containing the million-dollar rock I bought for Laila with my own money. The one I chose for her, that wasn’t supplied to me by some jeweler looking for a promotional opportunity.
When Laila sees the box, she gasps. And when I open the lid and she sees the rock nestled inside, she lets out a garbled sound of excitement and shock, the likes of which I’ve never heard from her.
