“Penelope,” I tell him, waiting for the murmur of laughter from the crowd, but it’s like the whole place can sense something’s up.
Something’s different.
“Penelope, ladies and gentleman,” Jett says, his voice cracking a little with an emotion I hope only I can pick up.
“Now. Just so you know, ladies and gentlemen Penelope and I do know each other. But we haven’t rehearsed what you’re about to see.
I swear my heart stops at his words.
“For my next trick…” he says, having to take a moment, almost dropping the mike. His hands even tremble slightly.
“For my next trick,” he repeats, firmer and louder.
Stronger as his eyes rest on mine, his hand reaching for something.
“…I’m gonna try and make… this ring disappear from its box onto Penelope’s finger, ladies and gentlemen.”
There’s an audible gasp as he flicks open a blue velvet box.
The lights from the stage reflect out into the arena as they hit the huge diamond.
I feel my eyes well up, my body shaking with a sob, but Jett is determined to make his next and final trick of his career as well as make me his wife.
And I won’t disappoint him on either front.
Regaining his composure, and with thousands of witnesses who are all standing by now, Jett continues.
“Now, Penelope. I’m gonna need you to say the magic word when I ask you a question. Help me make this ring disappear from this box onto your finger. Can you do that?” he asks.
My head stabs a nod, a single tear rolling down my cheek as the love of my life gets down on one knee.
“Penelope, will you marry me? Will you say the magic word that makes this ring reappear on your finger? The ring that tells the whole world you’ll be my wife?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper without hesitation, but it’s so quiet even I can’t hear myself say it.
“Louder, Penelope,” Jett says, his jaw tight as he contains his own emotions.
“Yes Jett, you know I will… yes, yes. Yes!”
The applause is deafening as he slips the ring onto my finger, dropping the microphone and lifting me up, kissing me like he’s never kissed me before.
The whole world is watching, and it still feels like I’m dreaming.
He could have asked me at the diner, slipping an onion ring on my finger and my answer would still be the same.
I’ll always be his, and he’ll always be mine.
His next trick is by no means his last in this life as I kiss him right back.
My husband-to-be.
The greatest man alive.
My Jett.
Forever now.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Jett
With no more shows, ever, it should probably feel like I’m missing something.
I even had a few high-profile entertainers in the industry warn me about post-stardom boredom, and a thousand other things that only made me wanna hang up the phone and get back to my real life.
Because they don’t have Penelope.
I do.
Being in a part of the country where getting married is as easy as ordering a pizza, I was hoping Penelope and I could tie the knot straight away.
But she’s a little old fashioned and wants a proper engagement, with enough time to do whatever it is engaged couples do versus couples that elope.
“As long as I have you I don’t mind,” I tell her a dozen times because it’s true. As long as she's by my side I can wait a little while to tie the knot.
But I know in my heart I put a baby in her belly that first time. When I claimed her. And no child of ours is going to come into this world without a proper mommy and daddy.
That’s just me being a lot old fashioned, I guess but it's how I feel and I feel pretty strongly about it.
“I think it’s time to switch washing detergent,” Penelope says one morning over breakfast by the pool.
She’s tapping a pencil against the frame of her new glasses as she puts together a piece for a national magazine on the science of household chemicals.
It’s a warm morning, and I was thinking about skinny dipping just now.
“Too risky?” I venture, knowing that Penelope’s a stickler for all things organic and non-toxic too.
Fuck she looks hot in those glasses.
Should’ve got her eyes tested months ago. Mind you, the way she used to blink a lot was pretty fucking hot as well.
Working hard to focus on what she’s saying, I adjust myself under my lightweight robe and turn my attention to my grapefruit instead of the hard, purple plum begging to be set free.
“It’s making me fat, Jett,” she says loudly.
I should or could laugh, but I also hate it when she uses that word when referring to herself.
She only ever gets like this when she’s down about something, and her mood has been pretty changeable for a few weeks now.
“My clothes fit fine and we wash everything together,” I shrug.