“Perfect,” he replies with a broad grin. He looks like his usual self, so I let it go.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I ask him. He planned this trip as a surprise, even plotted out our stops along the way. And for someone who lives and dies by her schedule and lesson plans, it’s been a massive relief to not be in charge for the last two weeks… at least it was, once I managed to let go.
“Paris,” Matt says with a grin.
“Really?” I squeal.
Matt nods, his dimples giving away how pleased he is by my excitement. “Saved the best for last.”
“Shhh!” I lean forward and cover his mouth with my hand. “I don’t think you can say that. You’re going to anger the Italians.” His smile grows under my palm, and I’d bet I have about three seconds before I get licked, so I pull my hand back.
A violinist strolls by playing something vaguely familiar, but I can’t nail it down. It’s out of place and trying to figure it out is dividing my attention. “You’re cute when you frown like that,” Matt chuckles.
“Sorry, I just can’t place the song. It’s making me—”
Another violin starts playing just behind me, making me jump. She’s playing a different tune than the first, but then they start to blend together. Matt grins behind his hand as I cock my head at him questioningly.
“What did you do?” I laugh. This is so like him.
“Nothing!” He says with false innocence. Just then, a cellist strolls into the center of the square. She picks a spot and starts playing, picking up the lyric line of the song. Everything falls into place, and I start laughing. If there’s one song on this planet that I know all the words to, it’s this one.
And I said, hey pretty lady, won’t you give me a sign?
I’d give anything to make you mine, all mine.
I’ll do your bidding and be at your beck and call.
I’ve never seen anyone lookin’ so fine,
Man, I gotta have her, she’s a one of a kind.
I’m going once, going twice,
I’m sold to the lady in the second row…
“Matthew Acevedo, what did you d—” I turn to look back at Matt, and my words catch in my throat. He’s on one knee, gazing up at me, and in his hands is a white velvet box. “Matt?”
“Chelsea, I have a million reasons to ask you to be my wife. You’re clever and creative. You make me laugh like no one else on earth. You’re feisty as hell.” That one makes me laugh, and I reach out to hold his hand as he continues.
“When I see you smile, I feel like my heart could leap right out of my body, just to be closer to you. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I promise to love every bit of you perfectly.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and I wiggle my hand to get him to speed up as I laugh and wipe the moisture away. “See? Feisty,” he chuckles. “I want to spend the rest of my nights in your bed, and the rest of my days making you happy. Chelsea, will you marry m—”
“Yes!” I yell, flinging myself into his arms. I catch him off guard, a rare occurrence, and we both topple to the cobblestones, with me on top. I open my mouth to say I’m sorry for tackling him, but Matt cradles the back of my head and smothers the apology with a kiss. He holds me in his arms like something precious and rare, and kisses me like it’s our last moment on earth. Thank Christ it’s not.
I fully intend to live a very, very long life, if only so that I can spend every moment with him.