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be thrilled to find out he had bought it.
He hadn’t told the band that he was going to propose. He
planned to do it at his Grandparent’s estate, with all of his family as witnesses. When he finally let his grandparents in on his plan, Nana had practically hurled her ring at him. She’d lectured him
at length about how he’d led a charmed life and how marriage
was often hard and how he would have to often swallow his
pride. His grandparents loved Stephanie—quite possibly more
than they loved him. Sometimes he suspected that his grand-
mother may have actually sabotaged his tire the night they had
been stranded near the cottage, since it happened right after
they’d left his grandparent’s estate.
Phillip had flown Steph’s brother Cedric in from Rome for
the proposal and what he hoped would be an impromptu en-
gagement party after. Cedric had tried at nauseating length to talk him out of it. He implored Phillip to, at the very least, “do it in private.” But Phillip had spent his life showing off, and making Steph his wife would be no exception. The knowledge of her
mere existence in the world had forever changed him. He was
immune to the throngs of groupies and models that were a con-
stant presence in his life. At first, this development disturbed him, and he fought it with a vengeance. Now his immunity gave
him a warm, contented feeling that would have gotten his ass
kicked by the band if he ever expressed it musically.
When Phillip made it clear he wouldn’t change his mind,
Cedric reluctantly agreed to meet and work out some details be-
fore Steph’s arrival. But when Cheyenne went into labor two
days before her due date, they were forced to come up with a
cover story because Stephanie dropped everything and hopped
the first flight to London. It worked out better anyhow; Steph
spent extra time with Cedric, and Cedric got to see Cheyenne
and Scot’s baby before moving onto Ireland for the surprise en-
gagement party. As far as Steph knew, Cedric was in London
under the guise of “blessing” Scot and Cheyenne’s newborn ba-
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
by. Phillip had little choice but to let Cheyenne and Scot in on his master plan at that point. After their hysterical laughter in response to the cover story died down, they were more than willing to play along. To Phillip’s horror, Cheyenne had offered similar advice to Cedric’s regarding Stephanie and popping the
question. Cheyenne felt he should “really discuss marriage and
family” with Steph before proposing “in a more intimate set-
ting.” Phillip scoffed. After months of stolen weekends and end-
less emails, Skype dates and phone calls,he had no doubt that she loved him. Though neither of them had ever said the words, he
felt passionately that he knew what her answer would be.
For a priest, Cedric was a remarkably polished liar. He’d
given a flawless performance at the hospital, and the raw emo-
tion on Cheyenne and Scot’s faces when he blessed their son had
been an unexpected bonus. Steph, who was the most cynical
woman he’d ever encountered, shed tears of joy at the sight of
the squawking newborn in Cedric’s arms. Phillip had felt just a
tad bit guilty about that.
Steph’s brother was currently on a flight to Ireland where
he’d planned to meet up with Steph’s dad, the owner of the mu-
sic magazine, The Sound Wave. Asking Steph’s dad for her hand had been terrifying. It was no exaggeration to say that he’d had to throw out the suit jacket he’d been wearing, since his profuse perspiring had utterly ruined it. Though Adam Brier was only 5’
5”, he was as commanding as Napoléon. After several veiled
threats to Phillip’s manhood should he ever hurt “his little girl”
and many compulsory shots of whisky, Phillip stumbled away
from The Sound Wave corporate offices with the permission he required.
Unfortunately, Stephanie had thrown the biggest wrench in-
to his orchestrations. She was so caught up in Cheyenne and
Scot’s new son, Liam, that he was afraid they’d never make their flight from London to Dublin. He’d already had to reschedule it
once. She’d planted herself in their room at the hospital, obnox-4
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iously riding the nursing staff and monopolizing the infant. Just before his pilot filed a new flight plan to Ireland, Steph had been contacted by Donna Moderna, an Italian fashion magazine, to do a spread in preparation for Milan Fall Fashion Week. She’d ne-gotiated to have two solid weeks with him, but now she’d only
be here for 10 days. He knew that her agent had already booked
her in Paris for a photo shoot for La Femme Actualle immediately after that. He chose not to brood about it, but couldn’t wait until the proposal was over with. When they were married, all
this incessant traveling would settle down, and they could finally be together on a regular basis.
None of this scheduling madness was new. Steph’s photog-
raphy career made his songwriting sessions with Bret and the
recording schedule for Fury’s latest album appear as if he were
in retirement. Since leaving The Sound Wave and going free-lance, her calendar had been booked solid. The band agreed to
assemble later this week so that she could shoot them for the new album cover. Only half the songs were written, but they all
agreed they wanted Steph to do the photo, and they had to take
advantage of the break in her schedule. Most bands would’ve
killed for Stephanie Brier to photograph them, but few could af-
ford her. Steph’s fee for Fury’s shoot was a six pack of Guinness and a mixed CD from their drummer, David. (She was still a big
fan of good old DJ Dave’s remixes). And bragging rights, of
course. Their albums had gone triple platinum, and even Stepha-
nie, who was born rock n’ roll royalty, had been impressed with
their sweep at the Grammys and VMA’s this year. And she was
rarely impressed by anything; it would be nice to have her attention, if only from the other side of the camera lens.
This visit would be the first time he’d had
