It is beautiful. It is love.
"Oh, sweet pea, you're here," Claire says, kissing Sophia's cheeks over and over, pulling her into her lap. "I had no idea you were coming. Mom, why didn't you tell me? I had no idea."
Eva shrugs, then gives Claire a hug.
"It was unexpected, Claire," Eva says. "Sorry I didn't ask about Sophia riding in a plane, but we all thought you might be missing her quite a bit."
"Landon brought us here! he is the best friend ever, Mama. He read me stories after Gram fell asleep, and he promised me you were in this castle-his Mum and Dad's castle-and you are. He keeps his promises."
"He does, doesn't he?" Claire says, looking up, meeting my eyes.
I swear the entire world stops. It's just her and me.
I want to weep, and I want to kiss her, and I want to scream to the world that she's mine.
But first, Fiona speaks. "Claire explained an awful lot this morning."
"A lot? Does that mean everything?" I ask.
"Everything," Claire says, taking off her engagement ring and handing it to me, not meeting my gaze.
I had no idea Claire planned on laying out my lies, but it's her story to tell. I can't be mad at her about it.
Just fucking pissed.
Still, I need to apologize to my parents before I can talk to her.
"Well, then," I say. "I'm sorry, Mum and Dad, for lying. It was a poor imitation at being an adult. I should have done better."
"Ah, but had you done differently, would you have found this?" Mum asks, tilting her head toward Claire and Sophia, who are cheek to cheek, heart to heart, arm in arm.
"I suppose I wouldn't have." I look over at Claire, my jaw clenched. What the hell? We swore we wouldn't tell my parents.
"That would be a pity, wouldn't it, son?" Dad asks. "Now, I know your posse has just arrived, but your mum and I need to speak with you for a moment, all right?"
"Right." Then I look over at Claire, who's biting her knuckles, clearly sensing my anger. "But do you suppose I could speak with Claire first?"
"If you need to, son," Dad says.
I nod to my friends, before grabbing Claire's hand and dragging her out of the sitting room.
I lead her up the stairs, so confused. Wanting to scream. Why did she never return my calls? Why did she tell my family the story that was mine to tell?
"What the hell, Claire?" I ask, the moment I've shut our bedroom door behind us.
"What do you mean?" she asks, running her hands through her hair.
"What do I mean? I mean why did you tell my family it was a fake engagement?"
She scoffs, turning to face me. "Are you serious right now? You're the one telling me all the time to be brave. To stick up for myself. To not be ashamed. So, one time I grow a pair and set the story straight, and you get mad? I can't win."
"It's not about winning or losing. It's about being in this together," I tell her, wanting to grab her and scream, but also wanting her to believe me. Trust me. See me for who I fucking am.
Hers.
"Oh, together? Is that what we are?" she asks, incredulous. "Is that why you hung up angry, screaming on the phone, because we're in this together?"
"I want to be in this with you, Claire. But, fuck-I'm not perfect. I was shocked when we talked on the phone. You kept things from me. You let me confess my love to you, totally playing me for a fool. I can't have my woman making me into a fucking pussy."
"Is that what I am? Your woman? I don't want to be your thing, Landon. That's what happened the first time. I was someone's thing. Now I want to be a partner. A wife. A mother. A daughter. A friend. But not your woman."
"Fuck that," I tell her. "You can be all those things; you should be all this things. But you can also be mine. And when I say you're my woman, I mean I will fucking protect you. Keep you safe. Cherish you. Fight for you."
Her eyes fill with tears. She shakes her head and tries to move away, but I grab her wrists, pull her to me.
"You don't get to run from me because you're scared," I tell her. "Let me in. Let me be there for the hard conversations. Let me be there for the parts that feel impossible. Let me take care of you."
And then she kisses me.
And her salty tears wash away her fears, wash away my questions. Her mouth melts against mine, and we become one.
Anything I may have finished with Claire is interrupted when Brandon summons me to my parents' room.
I knock on Mum and Dad's door. When they let me in, Dad asks, "So, you and Claire have things sorted out?"
I nod, relieved that that's my answer, and also that this isn't going to be an inquisition. My parents are just checking in with me. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Good," Mum says. "I know that confession of hers was a lot to take in-but, Landon, things tend to work out when everything is in the open."
"I hope so, Mum."
Dad uses a key from his bureau to open a safe in the back of the closet.
"Are we on a treasure hunt?" I ask, not knowing what they've called me here for.
"I suppose so," Mum says, smiling slightly as if she has a secret.
Dad opens the safe, and begins pulling out trays of jewels.
"Holy shit, Dad, this trove alone could save The King's Diamond. These must be worth hundreds of millions alone."
Mum presses her palm to her chest. "But these are family jewels, Landon."
I laugh. "You're both bloody insane. I just got my friends to invest in the company to save you from bankruptcy. Meanwhile you have jewels that could be auctioned off for hundreds of millions of dollars." I pick up a ring with a diamond the size of a poker chip. "Why is this not in a bank vault in London? I mean, seriously, who knows you have these?"
"They are family heirlooms, Landon," Dad says. "No one knows."
"Truth is, though, Arthur," Mom says, "the only ones that really matter are the two diamond rings the boys need for their wives. The rest aren't necessary ... perhaps we've held too tight to the past. As long as we do, we won't be able to take the business into the future."
"I can't believe you've had these all this time," I say, dazed at the collection.
"Why do you think I was able to start The King's Diamond in the first place?"
"I don't know-because you went to Cambridge and learned business? Because you were an entrepreneur?"
"Well, those things, surely, but our family has been in the business of gems for hundreds of years."
"Does Geoffrey know about this vault?" I ask, picking up a brooch with an emerald the size of my phone.
"He does now. I showed him yesterday, when we asked him to pick out a ring for Fiona."
"And what did he say?"
Dad laughed. "He called me a bloody fool, and told me I was under no circumstance allowed to sign anything having to do with new investors, considering this safe contains hundreds of millions worth of jewels."
"And what was your response?"
"I told him that if we could save the business with these jewels, then perhaps it was time for me to retire, after all. That maybe the ruse to get you here was actually the best plan of all."
"Dad-" I begin, not wanting him to change his plans for me, not after all the lying I did.
"No, Landon, listen for a moment. I'm tired. I've become a bumbling fool. I want to sit at home with my wife, drink tea, enjoy my grandchildren. I don't want to work. I've clearly lost the drive, considering the last few years have been a complete disaster for The King's Diamond."
"Well, I think Geoffrey had as much to do with that as anyone."
"Because I left him to flounder," Dad says. "He needs a partner. He needs someone to do this with. And I think that person is you."
I run my hand through my hair. Bloody hell. I just named myself the General Manager of the new club, practically begged my friends to help. Had Denzel set everything up so I could have a legitimate job.
But working with my family seems like my destiny-what I was really made to do, what I want to do. I've just run from it for so long.
"You trust me to work with Geoffrey, sell these jewels, save the business-even though I lied to you for the past week about being engaged to Claire?"
"Oh, darling," Mum says. "It may have started as ploy, but I think it was your smartest move yet."
"The next smartest move, of course," Dad says, "will be you being the co-owner of The King's Diamond."
I shake my head. I came here lying, looking for my parent's approval-and somehow, when I became most honest, most true, I found it.
"Now pick out a bloody ring and propose to Claire properly," Dad says.
"There's a double wedding to be had, after all," Mum says, smiling.
I look down at the rows and rows of rings tucked in the velvet box. I know that, while I don't know Claire's favorite movie or favorite type of pie, I do know her, and I want a ring that represents that.
A ring that represents my love for her. Just as Dad has told me, for so long, an engagement ring should.