“I’m lucky enough to count my neighbor’s nanny as one of my dearest friends,” Julian continued. “At the right moment, she gave me the push I needed.”
“Your neighbor’s nanny!” the host exclaimed. “Are you comfortable sharing their name?”
“Absolutely. Rosie Parker.” Julian scanned the audience. “Where are you, Rosie? Stand up and let the people see you.”
A petite brunette stood from the second row and waved like Queen Elizabeth to great cheers. Nina dabbed away tears from the corners of her eyes. She’d never met Rosie, but had heard all about her. Some might be surprised that Julian would rather befriend the rich neighbor’s nanny than the neighbor himself, but not Nina. He had such an open, generous heart. Not a pretentious bone in his hunky body.
“As someone who has followed your career in the press,” the host said, “it sounds like you’ve grown a lot.”
Julian nodded. “You could say that.”
“Anyone else you’d like to thank publicly tonight?”
“Nina Taylor.”
“Your cowriter?” the host asked, as if there were any doubt.
Nina had stiffened at the sound of her name. Should she stand and wave, too? Or could she slink under her chair? Soon, though, the theater went dark and the curtain rose. The movie screen lit up with a still image of her on the rooftop deck at Sand Castle, her linen shirtdress billowing in the breeze. It was the first photo he had taken of her. I want you to see what I see. That morning he had sent her a copy of the script; both their love affair and creative partnership had begun.
In the next photo, she was standing in the boat that Julian had chartered, staring at the turquoise sea. The sky was bursting with oranges and pinks, almost as if in celebration of a love they had not yet declared.
The photos that followed were candid shots taken by the cinematographer during production. She and Julian reading off the same script, walking around the set hand in hand, talking with the crew, laughing at jokes long forgotten, dancing at the wrap party.
When the lights flickered on, Julian stood alone on stage, looking down at her. Nina gripped the armrests, torn in two by terror and tenderness. He raised the microphone to his lips, and his smooth voice filled the theater. “You published your response, and now it’s my turn.”
Oh, no… She raised a hand to her forehead to shield her face. She did not want photographers capturing the moment she at long last came undone.
“Nina, you are my creative partner, my muse and my best friend. The night I lost you, I was more concerned with protecting my reputation than the woman I loved. It pains me to admit it, but that’s the awful truth. After you left, I didn’t think you could ever forgive me, or that I even deserved forgiveness.”
What was he doing? Hadn’t he read her blog post? She’d been firm on keeping the public out of their affairs. He’d had every opportunity to speak with her. She did not want to have this conversation in a room full of strangers. “Julian, please,” she said. “Don’t do this.”
“Goldie, let me say this one last thing.”
He’d managed to turn a nickname that she despised into a sweet endearment. Damn him for weaponizing every tender memory! What was he trying to do? Rip her heart out of her chest?
“I betrayed you. And by staying away, I know I must have hurt you. All I wanted was to protect you—”
Someone heckled from deep within the audience. “Dump him, honey! He doesn’t love you! This is all for show!”
Fueled by outrage, Nina jetted to her feet and faced the assembly. This was not the audience participation part of the show. “You don’t know him! Mind your business!”
The response came lightning fast. “He made it our business!”
Nina couldn’t argue against that. This grand romantic gesture wasn’t worth their privacy. She swiveled around to take it up with Julian. Come to think of it, this did have all the trappings of a stunt. If he pulled a ring from his pocket and dropped to one knee, she would punch him in the face. Only Julian did not appear fazed by any of this. He laughed at the heckler. “I love this woman, and I don’t care who knows.”
Oh, God! That laugh! She remembered the first time she’d heard it in the courtyard at Sand Castle, the day their eyes had met and she’d lost all good sense. This was her man. She loved him. There was no denying it.
“Just kiss and make up already!” Valerie cried. “This is killing me!”
Nina turned to confront her, but found her cousin, Grace and Francisco all beaming up at her encouragingly. She was reminded of what Grace had said the first night they’d talked: for some people, it takes a village.
She took one step toward the stage, one step toward Julian. His eyes were bright with emotion, and no force in the world could keep the words locked inside her. “I love you, Julian Knight. Okay? Happy? I love you! I don’t want to live without you. Now, please stop trying to protect me from things. I hate it.”
The assembly erupted in bravos and cheers. Julian dropped the microphone and smoothly leaped off the stage like the action star he absolutely was. He drew her into his arms and kissed her. They kissed as if a roomful of people were not watching, as if photographers weren’t snapping photos like mad. He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly, lovingly, until Nina was out of breath and out of words to express her love. Then he released her, stepped away, pulled a ring out of his pocket and sank down on one knee.
Nina didn’t hear the crowd gasp. All the world faded to black.
Epilogue
“We’re here on the
