Big, powerful, written-across-the-sky love.
Like the kind Angeline found. She met her boyfriend at the first of this new line of events. “We just sparked,” she said when she told me about her guy.
I couldn’t be happier for her.
Though, selfishly, I’m happy she stayed on as a client. The partnership still fits—her company rolled out a new line of inexpensive sports watches.
I flash my new one at Bellamy as I head to the door. “Guess I’m not such an elitist anymore,” I say.
“You can be an elitist, though, when you take me to Europe next week and we stay in five-star hotels.”
“So, you do like my elitist side.”
She pretends to consider this. “Seems I do.”
“I knew it. I fucking knew it.”
“Feels good to be right, doesn’t it?”
On this count, yes.
But I want to be right on another one too. “Meet me at The Lucky Spot tonight?”
She smiles. “I’ll be there.”
The party was a hit, and after I say goodbye to the last guest, I check my watch. I’ve got thirty minutes until I meet Bellamy, and it’s time for a change of plans.
I send her a text, asking if she can meet, instead, on Forty-Sixth and Broadway at eleven-thirty.
Thirty minutes later when she walks toward me on the corner, I don’t get down on one knee.
That would be all too predictable.
But my intentions are brilliantly clear for her to see.
Epilogue - Bellamy Hart’s A Million Frogs Podcast . . .
Episode: A Big Rock
* * *
Dear Listener,
I have a story to tell you about my Saturday night. A certain someone surprised me, big time. My main squeeze asked me to meet him in Times Square, and he did the last thing I expected.
This was Times Square, after all. It’s a little crowded, a little dirty. But it also has these fabulous things that your most devoted guide to romance simply adores.
Billboards. Big, tall billboards with flashing lights and neon.
When I turned the corner to meet my guy, I stopped, froze where I stood, jaw dropped, heart fluttering. Because behind him, six stories high, lit up and glittering, was a love letter.
For me.
Blinking across the New York skyline, it said . . .
Dear Bellamy,
Will you marry me?
Yours in I hope you’ll be mine forever,
Easton
* * *
What did I say, you wonder? More like what did I do. I jumped into his arms, kissed him hard, cried my eyes out, and said yes, yes, yes.
Then he slid a big rock onto my finger . . .
And I kissed the frog who’s going to be my husband.
The End