Wesley’s Heart ~~ The Proposal
Ring, Ring!
Ring, Ring, Ring!
“Noooo.... “I mumble to myself as the offensive ringing of my phone wakes me out of my blissful rest. I roll to my back with my head feeling full of cotton and pain nipping at my temples, and grab the still ringing phone, contemplating whether I should let it go to voicemail. I squint at the obnoxiously bright screen, see that it’s Wesley, and groan.
If I let this go to voicemail, he’s going to freak. Besides, I told him when he woke me before he left this morning to call me to make sure I didn’t sleep the morning away. Before I can get my wits about me, the ringing stops and immediately starts again.
Oops.
“Hey, Babe,” I answer with a yawn.
Wesley chuckles across the line. “You’re lucky I suspected you were not fully awake to answer the first time. A third try, and I would have been halfway back to our hotel already.”
“Haha,” I answer jokingly. “Did you turn into Superman before you left? No way could you have made it back from the vineyard that quickly.”
I wouldn’t blame him for being worried though. We arrived in the Hill Country late last night after a pre-engagement dinner thrown for Wesley and me by Tuck and Paloma at the ranch. Apparently, it doesn’t matter that we aren’t officially engaged. Just knowing that there is a wedding in the near future is enough for our family and friends to celebrate. They even Facetimed my parents who were having a party with our extended family in Atlanta. And given how I’m feeling this morning, I’m fairly certain that Bianca got me to take that last drink which was pushing the line.
“You’d be surprised what I can do when I’m highly motivated,” Wesley answers with a dark, flirtatious tone. I can almost see him winking sexily through the connection. My response is an equally flirtatious hum of laughter, and I stretch before carefully sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
“Thanks for waking me up. How are the meetings going?” I walk over to my suitcase to choose an outfit for the day.
“You’re welcome; and pretty well,” he answers. He tells me about the improvements the owners want to make at the little vineyard that we’ve invested in and the plan they are working on for which things need to be done first. “I should be able to be finished by lunch. Want to meet up at our bistro?”
“Sounds perfect.” I’m now in the bathroom looking at my face in the mirror, and I grimace. My curly hair looks like I stuck my finger in a light socket. I suddenly remember breaking my cardinal rule of never sleeping in my make up because yesterday’s mascara is smeared around my eyes and flaked across my face, and my breath tastes like the fire a dragon would breathe on you. The whole image is simply disrespectful.
“Good. I’ll send a car for you,” he replies.
I pop two Excedrin with half a bottle of water from the mini fridge. “Ok; but not too soon.” I glance at myself in the mirror one more time before I turn on the shower and wait for the water to warm up. “I’m going to need a minute to erase the effects of last night.”
I end the call with Wesley’s evil laughter ringing in my ears.
Remind me to check his phone for potential blackmail material against me.
*****
I’m finally feeling – and looking – like myself as the driver Wesley sent from a local car service drives me into the small town. He’s been very professional, but not one for any small talk, so we’ve made the ride in silence.
It is a gorgeous summer day. The scenery is so lush, and seeing it makes me wish Wesley and I had a cabin or a place here to just get away.
It’s funny how much of Wesley’s private, introverted personality has rubbed off on me. He says that’s the part of him that got broken when he lost Sayaka, but I get it. More and more, I understand how he grew to keep his circle small and protect his peace. It can be addicting, and I love how he now protects Ariel and I as part of his peace as well. It makes me feel loved and cherished, and really, living in the hills on the outskirts of Austin makes me appreciate a quiet, drama-free existence more than anything else.
The driver makes one final turn, and we are approaching the main street full of quaint shops and small- town charm, and suddenly I feel like taking a walk in the breeze before it gets too warm.
“Sir, let me off here. I can walk the rest of the way; I think we’re a little early anyway.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” The chauffeur comes to a gentle stop at the first shop and barely gives a parting greeting before he is on his way again.
I chuckle to myself as I walk up Main Street looking into all the little shops and grinning like an idiot with the wind ruffling my hair. I feel like I’m in one of those Hallmark movies I used to mock but now can’t get enough of—even though Wesley teases me about them every time. I stop in my favorite coffee shop to get a sweet, iced tea and chat with my favorite barista before continuing my stroll down the street, my feet taking me straight to the one store that is on my list to visit every time Wesley and I are in town: the jewelry store.
I stumbled upon the little shop on our first trip. It is a family run business, passed down to the fourth generation now. What I really love is the fact that the original jeweler sold many of his wife’s designs which are as exquisite as any from any of the well-known designers I can think of but being such a small shop in such a small community, she is only known in the surrounding area. Her grandson inherited her love of design and has taken over that part of the business.
Yes, I know; I’m off topic again, so let me get to the point. I always stop here because they have my dream wedding ring on display.
Or at least it would be if the owners were willing to sell it.
It’s probably too simple for the contemporary billionaire circle these days. It’s not huge with an obscene number of diamonds and a price tag to match, but it’s a perfect symbol of Wesley’s and my relationship. Strong and quiet, understated, but pure and beautiful. It is a yellow gold band with delicate, crisscross detailing surrounding two fairly small diamonds set on either side of a trillion-cut diamond in the center. All three diamonds are nearly perfect, which
was an especially big deal in the 1940’s when it was commissioned.
The story goes that a young man was visiting the area with some friends of his before they shipped out with the Navy for his first deployment. He saw the shop and stopped in to look for a ring for his lady love back home and ended up commissioning the custom designed wedding set. He said he would pick it up when he returned to the US, but he never came back.
At some point, they tried to contact him—sent a letter to the address he had provided—and when the family responded, they told the jeweler the young man had died in the attack on Pearl Harbor, they had no idea he was buying a ring and no use for the woman for whom he was buying it. As far as they were concerned, the ring could be melted down for scrap. The jeweler and his wife were so heartbroken for the young man and for his love who would never know he was going to ask her to marry him, that the wife couldn’t bring herself to sell the ring—even after all these years.
These days, it sits in a prominent display, most believing it is a replica of a favorite design from the store’s early history, but for some reason, the grandson spilled the story to me during my first visit after swearing me to secrecy. He said that it was because he could see how much I loved it the minute I set eyes on it, that his grandmother would be so touched by my reaction.
I step into the shop, barely hearing the tinkling of the bell above the door as I head straight to the display case. I know I can’t have it, but it is so perfect, I’m afraid that I won’t find anything that even comes close. I can’t wait to marry Wesley, and I know that whatever he chooses will be stunning, but I know a little part of me will wish that he was sliding this ring on my finger...
My feet falter and my eyes almost bug out of my head as I reach the front where I know the ring is. Except it isn’t there.
The case is empty.
I’m standing in the middle of the store, my mouth hanging open in disbelief, when a college-aged girl I don’t recognize approaches me. “Ma’am? Can I help you find something?”
“Th-the ring? W-where is it?” I stammer, as I turn in a frantic circle to scan the rest of the shop. “The ring that was in that case,” I choke out as I point “Where is it?”
“Oh,” she acknowledges. “I wasn’t here that day, but the missus finally decided to sell it.”
My heart drops into my stomach and I feel like I might be sick. Tears prickle the back of my eyelids, and I blink frantically to keep them from falling. “What? How--” I cut myself off before I ask how she could do that. “I-I mean, wow. After all these years?”
The sales-clerk nods. “I know right? As far as I know, one day, she just said it was time. I don’t know anything about the buyer.”
“Well. I guess that’s it then. Wow.” I blow out a breath as my feelings threaten to overwhelm me. “Whomever is getting that is a lucky lady.”
“I guess,” she shrugs. “Can I help you find something else, maybe?”
I shake my head, already turning away so she won’t see the tears that will no longer be contained. “No; that was it. Thanks,” I whisper as I hurry out of the store.
Out in the fresh air, I take a gasping breath and the tears fall in earnest. I hurry across the street to a little park where families are playing and a few couples are strolling hand-in-hand, everyone thankfully too busy to notice the distraught woman leaning against a tree, frantically trying to pull herself together.
This is silly! How can I be so emotional over something I never had? Over something I knew was never going to be mine? And of course, it’s the jeweler’s right to sell it if she wants to. I never even met the woman; she couldn’t have known that piece of jewelry had taken up residence in my heart or that it would break me if she decided to sell it. I didn’t even know how it would affect me.
It’s just a ring. Wesley and I aren’t broken; we’re still going to get married, and the ring I wear to signify our union will be lovely without a doubt. I need to get a hold of myself.
It takes a few minutes, but I’m finally able to gather myself. I sink to the bench that is situated under the shade of the tree and pull my makeup compact from my purse to survey the damage from my tears and get to work.
As I finish, it feels like I’m being watched, but when I look around, no one seems to be paying any attention to me. Not wanting to draw too much attention to myself, I casually get up and walk away with my senses on high alert. I don’t live my life in fear, but being kidnapped once in my life makes me pay attention when I feel uneasy. Luckily, the bistro where I’m meeting Wesley is close by, and he is waiting at the door when I arrive.
He reaches for me as soon as I’m near enough and hugs me as if he hasn’t seen me for days instead of mere hours. As he holds me, his arms stiffen around my back. I try to pull back to ask what is wrong, but he holds me tighter, almost pushing my face into his chest.
“Wesley, what’s wrong?” My voice is muffled since I'm smashed against him.
“Nothing. I’ve just missed you, Sweetheart.” Suddenly, he releases me and spins me toward the door of the restaurant, hustling us through it. “Come on; let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Once we're settled at our table, Wesley sighs deeply then puts on his most charming smile. Like that will distract me from the fact that he has been acting weird for the last three minutes. “So, what have you been doing while I’ve been in meetings? The driver called and said he dropped you off at the coffee shop so you could walk?” He raises an eyebrow.
I should have known that would get back to him. Wesley does not mess around when it comes to Ariel’s and my security.
“It’s such a beautiful day, and I didn’t think he wanted to tag along while I tooled around my favorite shops...” I let my voice trail off and shrug, and Wesley frowns.
“What happened? I know something is wrong, so don’t try to tell me nothing.”
I immediately choke up again thinking about what happened and try to hide it by clearing my throat. “Nothing--”
“Adrienne.”
I sigh. “Really, it’s nothing.” And then the whole incident at the jewelry store pours out, and as understanding starts to shine through his eyes, tears well in mine.
“You wanted that ring.” he states. I guess with my reaction, it’s obvious, but I shrug and nod anyway. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it gently. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t feel worse about this whole thing. “What? Wesley, no--” He silences me with a finger against my lips.
“Shh. I promise.”
*****
“Wow. You look amazing.” Wesley’s perusal of my body as I step out of the bathroom dressed for our dinner date in a red, knee length cocktail dress does wonders for my self-esteem. I usually don’t have a problem with it, but sometimes he just makes me feel like the most beautiful, desirable woman on the planet.
I do a little twirl before I wrap my arms around his shoulders and give him a kiss. “You look very handsome yourself, Babe.” I laugh when he smirks and raises his eyebrows as if to say there was never any doubt about that. And there could never be. Wesley fills out a suit like nobody else.
He has made it his mission to cheer me up after all my drama this morning, and I’m feeling better. Definitely ready to enjoy our private dinner at the winery. It sounds like they want to expand with a small restaurant on the grounds that would serve only dinner and feature their own wines, of course. We will be their first diners trying out a sample menu of items and dishes that have made the final cut for consideration.
We drove the silver Jaguar F-type—Wesley’s newest toy—on this trip. He settles me into the passenger seat with all aplomb of a king seating his queen before he climbs into the driver’s seat. The purr of the engine is barely audible when he hits the ignition, and I feel giddy when he gives it a little rev before we take off down the open straightaway out of town. When we arrive at the winery, he tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and covers it with his free hand as we walk toward the building.
“My lady. Our dinner awaits.” His voice drops to the husky whisper that always makes me shiver.
“Welcome, Mr. Hawthorn. Miss Adrienne.” We are welcomed inside by the maître d' who immediately leads us to a table for two in the middle of the dining room. He goes over the night’s menu and wine selections, and states that he will be back with the first samplings of wine. We’ve worked through the first couple wines, when he brings another selection.
“Next, we have our Rose.’ It is a new wine developed especially in preparation for this night.”
“Oh wow. I’m impressed,” I say.
The maître d smiles politely at my interruption. “Yes. It is described as sweet, refreshing, lively and vibrant with some floral accents.”
Wesley and I are admiring the pink color, swirling the liquid around in our glasses and inhaling the scent of the wine as he speaks, and then he pauses while we take a sip. My eyes slide closed in rapture.
“I take it you like this?” The maître d’s grin is wide.
“Love. Love it.” I say. “What has it been named?”
Wesley clears his throat. “Its name is, Sweet Adrienne. And they will be debuting it in the Austin market—after they serve it at our wedding.”
For the second time today, my mouth is hanging open in shock. I’m so caught up in the wine being named after me that it takes another moment for the rest of his sentence to register.
At our wedding...
Wesley is staring at me with intense swirling of emotions in his eyes. He is fighting some of the stronger ones; I notice his lower lip tremble slightly through the loving smile that is spreading across his face. As he reaches for my hand, I catch motion in the corner of my eye. When I look up, all our family and friends are surrounding us, grinning like lunatics.
“Momma? Daddy? What are you—when did you--” I stumble over my words as the group parts and Ariel, dressed as a maître d and carrying a tray with a small, ring-sized box on it, walks up to her dad, who has gotten down on one knee.
“Thank you, Baby Girl.” He kisses her on the cheek before tucking her into his lap. He takes the box off the tray—which the actual maître d quickly takes from him—then hands the box back to Ariel. “Go ahead and open it. Show it to Adrienne.”
Ariel does as instructed, and I can’t believe it.
Nestled snuggly inside the black velvet is the ring from the jewelry shop.
“My ring!” I exclaim.
Wesley chuckles. “Yes; your ring. Remember the second time we came to town? We walked into the shop to start getting ideas. I was sure that you would pick one or two that had immediately caught my eye, but you had yours on this one. You tried to hide it and be appreciative of the ones I was excited about, but I knew this was the one you wanted.”
“How did you get her to sell it?” I whisper.
He gives me a wounded look. “I told you that you would be surprised at what I can accomplish when I’m highly motivated, and you still doubt me?”
I laugh through my tears. “Not anymore.”
“Um...not to interrupt a sweet moment, but can we get on with this? I’m sure Wesley would like to get up off his knee and I would really like to hug my daughter.” my father interrupts cheekily. The group has a quick laugh before Wesley gets down to business.
“Adrienne, few people know how empty my life was before Ariel was given to me. Or how much I preferred it that way. They don't know how, from the first moment I met you, I faught against you and the changes I knew you would bring and I was sure that I didn't want. They don't know how thankful I am that I put my ego aside and let you in. Ariel and I were lost before you. I was lost before you brought your brand of life and love to our home. I’ve tried to tell you daily how much I love you, how much we love you. We can’t imagine our life without you; I can't imagine my life without you. You brought me back to life in a way no one thought was possible, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to give a fraction of that back to you, but it would be my honor to spend the rest of my life trying. So, Adrienne Monroe, will you marry me? Marry us?”
He barely finishes his question before I’m ready with my answer. “Yes!”
Our family starts to cheer and gather around us as Wesley slips my ring on my finger, where it is going to stay forever. I am never taking it off.
After all the hugs, tears and commotion die down, everyone finds a place to sit, and dinner starts to be served. Wesley and I are still at our table for two, with a third chair added for Ariel, of course, when he looks at me sheepishly.
“Does this make up for what happened at lunch?” I frown, thinking for a moment and not understanding where he is going. “Letting you cry over a ring that was safely in my dad’s possession?” he clarifies.
I burst out laughing. “You did do that, didn’t you?” I playfully swat him in the arm. “How could you?”
He shakes his head. “I almost didn’t make it. There I was, already worried about you because your dad called to say they saw you in the park crying.”
“What?! I knew I was being watched!” Everything starts to fall into place as he continues.
“And I didn’t expect everyone to follow you to the bistro--though I probably should have--so I was panicked that you were going to see them.”
“That’s why you practically smothered me then pretty much pushed me inside the building.”
“And then you started telling your story.” Wesley shakes his head. “Your tears almost broke me. I was this close to saying, ‘Screw it,’ and ruining everything.”
“But you promised to make it up to me instead,” I finish, watching my perfect ring sparkling in the lights. “You definitely made it up to me, and I one hundred percent forgive you.”
He sighs. “Good. I do not want to start my marriage off in the doghouse.”
I laugh and lean forward to reward him with a kiss. “After pulling this off? Never.”
The End