“Huh?”
“I just got booked for a string of shows. We’re going to Vegas, my dear.”
I stare at him, open-mouthed, remembering the time when he told me how he did one of his tricks, and in exchange I’d have to go to America with him the next time he had shows there. It seems I really am going to keep my promise to Dad and let Jay take me on an adventure.
I swallow hard, shivers breaking out all over my skin, and reply excitedly, “I guess we are. I can’t wait!”
Epilogue
Several months later. Las Vegas, Nevada.
I curse as I accidentally prick myself with the needle. The suit I’m designing for Jay to wear during his next performance is almost complete. Up until recently, I’ve only ever designed dresses, but since I’m now a permanent member of his style and wardrobe team, I’ve been inspired to create something truly original. Something that represents him completely.
If Mum is up there somewhere looking down on me, I think she’d be proud. I’ve taken the things she taught me and turned them into a career. It took me a couple of weeks to train a new secretary for Dad, but now I’ve finally left my solicitor’s office days behind me.
I get to give style advice and create my own designs for a living. For me, it doesn’t get much better than that.
This final part of the suit needed to be hand-stitched, a tiny red heart in the corner of the left lapel, and I was concentrating so hard that I managed to prick myself, drawing blood. I stick my finger in my mouth as I go in search of a Band-Aid. Finding one, I quickly wrap it around the cut and return to my sewing. I run my hand over the beautiful, midnight blue fabric, truly proud of the work I’ve done.
I can’t wait to surprise Jay with this. I’ve been sneakily taking his measurements the past few weeks, ensuring that the suit will fit perfectly, but he has no clue what I’ve been up to. As I go to thread the needle again, I suddenly become aware of something cold on my skin. Glancing down, I gasp, my hand going to my mouth in surprise.
Right there on my finger is the most beautiful diamond engagement ring I’ve ever seen, and it definitely wasn’t there a second ago. I stare at it for what feels like forever. Standing up again, I walk over to the mirror by my bed and stare at my hand through the glass. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Jay standing in the doorway, a smile on his mouth and love beaming from him.
This is the way of things when your boyfriend is an illusionist. He has a habit of appearing out of thin air, and deep down he’s just a big kid who thrives on mischievous pranks and coming up with elaborate ways to surprise people.
His childhood may have been stolen by adults, but he claims that childhood back with each new trick he creates. For months now I have been completely under his spell.
“What is this?” I ask, turning and thrusting my hand out to him; my heart is hammering and my brain is refusing to believe the very obvious meaning of the diamond currently residing on my ring finger.
“It’s yours,” the mercurial bastard replies, all matter of fact, while my heart is zinging with a thousand mushy, fuzzy, lovey-dovey emotions.
My eyes grow instantly watery with love and my cheeks flush pink with nervous excitement. “Jason, I’m not going to make you explain how you got this ring on my finger, but I must insist that you tell me why y-you’ve put it there,” I stammer, my voice jittery.
He strides towards me and takes both my shaky hands into his. He lifts them and places them on his chest, while looking down at the ring as he rubs his thumb over it.
“I want you to belong to me. I want to tell the world that you’re mine. That’s why I’ve put it there, Watson.”
I blink away a tear and keep my eyes closed, whispering, “You have to ask the question.”
His hot breath hits my cheeks as he leans in. He kisses away my tears, then nuzzles his nose into my temples. “Will you marry me, Matilda?” he asks softly.
I open my eyes then and look up into his, replying instantly, “Yes, oh my God, yes.”
He takes my face into his hands then, and kisses me until I’m tugging on his shirt and trying to figure out the quickest and most efficient way to rid him of his clothes. I don’t have to think for very long, because he pulls away, his eyes twinkling as he begins to undress himself with abandon. I watch, eating up every inch of skin that he reveals. Once he’s naked, though, he doesn’t come to me. Instead he walks over to the where I’ve left the suit.
Turning back to meet my gaze tenderly, he asks, “For me?”
My heart squeezes. “Yeah, Jay, it’s for you.”
He grins when he sees the tiny outline of a heart I’ve stitched into the fabric, rubs his finger over it, but doesn’t breathe a word. His silence speaks volumes. Next he starts to try it on. A minute later he’s fully dressed and I come to stand in front of him and smooth out the collar.