“No, you dope. Prince Phillip is the Disney prince who kissed Sleeping Beauty awake.” Unable to help myself, I bend down and kiss his twisted lips. “It was you, Easton. It was you who saved me with your constant reminders to buckle up. Your droning eventually led me to a state where every time it went off, all I heard was you bickering with me to put on my seatbelt.” I grab his hand and turn it over on the pillow on my lap, running my fingers along his palm. “That day, you won the argument that saved my life.”
All traces of his smile disappear. “You were in a wreck?”
I nod. “My Prius didn’t make it, but the State Trooper said I wouldn’t have either, if I didn’t have my seatbelt on. It was raining pretty hard, and I was in a hurry.”
“To get to where?”
“That’s the worst part.”
“Out with it, Natalie.”
“Well, I was rushing toward the airport because I had just maxed out my AmEx again. I was on my way to Stockholm.”
He gapes at me. “To my last concert?”
I nod.
“Baby,” he hangs his head, his tone both mournful and irritated. “Why, why, fucking why didn’t you call me?”
“Because it was my turn for a grand gesture. Jesus, Easton. After all we’d been through, I wanted to do what you’d done for me every single time. You deserved it. I had no idea what the reception would be, but when I finally convinced myself to just fucking do it, to show up and go for broke, I decided I didn’t want to wait for your tour to end. On the way, I got in the wreck, and it stalled me from getting to you. And then you were home and—”
“And dating Misty,” he adds. “Fuck.”
“I hate that part of it,” I whisper as I trace his lips. “I’d already wasted too much time, and I knew it, but I was always, always coming to you. You should know by now, even when we were apart, you’ve always been with me.” His eyes shine with emotion. “You’re so much a part of me—it’s unreal.”
He grips my hand and presses a delicate kiss to the back of it. “I know exactly what you mean. You asked me once when I knew I loved you.” He takes my finger and runs it along the loop in his Chihuly tattoo. “Well, this loop represents you, literally, figuratively, and poetically, but crazier than that, predictively—because fuck, reckless and na?ve—we’re the definition of insanity. But I’ll take insanity any day. I’ll relive it with you on loop.”
“You’re turning me on with that witty word usage, Crowne.”
“Do you want your answer or not?”
“Of course.”
He smirks, “I still don’t know.”
“Seriously?” I grumble. “That’s not an answer.”
“But I can tell you it was somewhere between you stalking into that bar dressed in your entire suitcase and my decision to alter the tattoo. So, when did I know I loved you? Somewhere in the first few days. But I can tell you for certain when I knew I wanted to marry you…and it was when your plane taxied away from me in Dallas.” He lifts my empty left hand, his expression darkening. “We never should have gotten divorced.”
Expression turning thoughtful, he stands in naked glory and stalks over to a dresser pulling out the ring he proposed to me with on stage before slipping back in bed.
“Beauty…” he says softly.
“It’s not even a question you need to ask again, Easton,” I say as he lifts his jade gaze and slides the ring back on my finger. Eyes watering, I gaze down at it with reverence. “Easton, I swear—”
“No, baby, no more promises,” he says, gripping the back of my neck.
I frown. “You don’t think we’re capable of keeping them?”
“I think we wasted too much time worrying about them to just be,” he murmurs. “We’ll make more on our next wedding day.”
I can’t help my smile. “So, we’re doing it again?”
“Hell yes, we are. This time, you’re planning it.”
“Our first one was perfect,” I sigh.
“It was. You have your work cut out for you,” he boasts as he dips to kiss me and jerks back suddenly. “Oh, and just so you fucking know, the second we leave Mexico, our life starts together. I don’t care if all four of our parents show up with the fucking cartel behind them for backup. We’re leaving on a plane—together.”
“Fine by me, Mr. Crowne, but I sincerely hope you’re okay with the destination and being covered in sweat three steps outside your front door while inhaling a good whiff of steamed-up cow shit.”