Chapter 12
FELICITY
“ Oh, girl!” Callie exclaims, sauntering through Café de la Presse towards me. I look at my bestie and burst into tears, destroying the collected persona I’ve worked all morning to create. I knew this would happen the moment I saw her empathetic face. It’s why I kept my makeup sparing today with no mascara.
In truth, I look like a shell of myself, despite the curled hair and professional black pantsuit I wore to meet with McDuffey.
“How was your trip?” she asks, the picture of style as always, from her perfectly coiffed afro to her shiny green eye shadow, magenta lips, and purple silk shirt with tight, black leather pants.
I sigh, unsure of how to answer the question. After a moment’s reflection, I say, “Intense, blissful, cataclysmic, heartbreaking.”
“Oh no.” She knits her eyebrows. “Was there another woman? Or secrets he was keeping from you?”
I shake my head. “Nope, just a family who looked like they were about to string me up the last time I saw them and a wannabe fiancée who spat in my face.”
“Wait, what? Hold on a minute!” Callie presses her fingers into her temples.
“Yeah. His mother arranged to have a bride shipped from the Basque Country to the United States to marry him. He wanted nothing to do with her and made that abundantly clear, declaring me his intended bride. But the woman still spat on me and tried to jump me, and I saw a side of his family so awful, I don’t know if I can ever stomach going back there.
“Oh, my goodness! An arranged marriage. But you said he refused the woman and declared you his intended mate? Where do you two stand now?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I do know because he was so sweet and loving with me. It was the best weekend of my life. But he confided something in me that has me worried.”
“What?”
“That with me by his side, he has the strength to stand up to his parents and forge his own path. But what happens now? With me not by his side? Will he give in? Cave to their insane demands?”
“With how you described him and how deeply devoted he is to you, there’s no way. I can’t imagine it. But what has he said since you left?”
“It’s been non-stop since leaving his place between driving the four hours back here, pulling an uber-long day yesterday to make my deadline this morning and meeting with my editor. Fierce sent me one text that I responded to Wednesday evening, letting him know I was safely back. And he texted yesterday morning as always. But nothing so far this morning. And there hasn’t been time for processing things, let alone discussing them together.”
“Well, don’t let that woman get her claws into him. Or let his family manipulate him. You’ve got to get back in there and hold your ground. You owe that to him.”
I smile thinly. “But I’m also the cause of all the drama. Can I allow a man I love to go through ostracizing and shaming on account of me?”
“Do you make him happy?”
I lick my lips. “I do. But at what cost?”
“You let him sort that out. Okay? If he’s a man worth his salt, he’ll make you his queen, relatives be damned.”
“How do you always know what I need to hear?”
“Because you’re my BFF, my sister for life.”
“Thank you again for the makeover, by the way.”
“Did Fierce love it?”
“More than you can know,” I reply, my cheeks burning as delicious thoughts of our steamy time together crowd my mind. I don’t have the heart to tell her mud pretty much negated the makeover. But the pretty panties and bras came in very handy.
“And did you tell him about the situation with your articles?”
I nod.
“And?”
“He was supportive. He said he trusted me to write our story from my heart, although he asked that I keep our most precious moments private.”
“Okay, find me one of his damn brothers who isn’t taken because I need a man like this in my life. Oh my God!”
Her words feel like a healing balm, allowing me to think back on the loving, wonderful moments from this weekend without all the angst overshadowing it. I want to curl up in a ball and cry because I miss the big, burly shepherd terribly.
“Speaking of mountain men,” Callie says, her eyes darting toward the back of the cafe. “You might want to look at who just walked through the door.”
I turn with a frown, expecting to see a heavily bearded Deadhead or maybe someone wearing rawhide and leather from the Haight. Instead, my breath catches in my throat.
“Oh my God, that’s Fierce,” I hiss towards Callie, my cheeks burning. He towers over everyone in the café, wearing a black, long-sleeved button-down shirt, Wrangler’s, black cowboy boots, and his black Stetson, which he wears when foregoing the beret. He carries a big bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.
“I know. Can’t forget a face or body like that,” she says, looking over my head in his direction. “He’s looking for you. And he has some other people with him.”
“Oh my God. Do I look okay? I don’t even have mascara on, and I’ve been crying all?—”
Callie stands up, waving in his direction and pointing at me. “Fierce, Mr. Basque Shepherd, she’s over here!”
Every eye in the café laser focuses on me, and I hear Fierce’s voice say something loudly in Basque. Immediately, drums start pounding out a rhythmic beat accompanied by something that sounds like sleigh bells.
Callie’s eyes are the size of dinner plates. “Girl, you look fine. Stand the fuck up. Your king’s here to claim you.”
Music fills the café, drawing closer. An ancient, primal beat. I take a deep breath, throw my shoulders back, and stand up confidently, turning to face the advancing sounds. Male voices join in, singing behind Fierce, and the Basque shepherd walks towards me, holding a big bouquet of sunflowers with his crew of musicians following behind until he towers over me, a solemn look on his face.
“Oh. My. God.” Callie exclaims.
The music continues, and café patrons cheer and clap along until it stops abruptly, silence overtaking the space. Applause breaks out around the room as Fierce laughs deep in his chest, a sound I’ve missed so much. Tears fill my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, stroking my cheek and staring at me longingly.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I say breathlessly, my face dissolving before his intense gaze. “More than I can express.”
As soon as tears hit my cheeks, the man melts before me. Poising the flowers and his Stetson on the café table, he sweeps me into his arms with a groan of satisfaction as the musicians start playing again. He says against the shell of my ear, “And I have missed you, ma luciole. I don’t ever want to be away from you again.”
“I don’t either,” I reply, looking up at his gorgeous face and trying to memorize everything about this moment. But the music’s so loud, I can’t say anything else, pressing my lips firmly together. Fierce turns, raising his hand and hollering something in Basque. Silence fills the room.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, by the way.” His blue eyes radiate love.
Is it Valentine’s Day? So much has happened in the space of five days my brain still reels. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mon bébé.”
“My family sends this band to begin making amends for the terrible scene they made. They will all personally apologize the next time they see you, and they will never breathe one word against you. Ever again.”
“But they were so angry. They looked like they wanted to kill me, and what about Daphne?”
“Oddly enough, Daphne and Julen seem to be hitting it off very well. I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up together. Daphne, in particular, sends her apologies. Her behavior was inexcusable, and she understands this. But after a twelve-hour international flight with no sleep, a night spent alone and unable to sleep again in a small regional airport of a foreign country, and the confusion of everything, she acted poorly. Very poorly.”
I frown.
“Don’t take my word for it. Everyone will be apologizing and working hard to make amends moving forward because I have made it clear…abundantly clear that you and I are family now. If I can still convince you to take a chance on a humble Basque shepherd.”
“And future cheesemaker for high-end restaurants.”
“Only if I can have an award-winning author and long-distance correspondent for the Chronicle by my side. That is unless you need to stay here and take the job?”
“My career means nothing without your strong arms wrapped around me at night,” I reply, staring deeply into his cerulean eyes and stroking his black beard. “So, long-distance correspondent sounds good.”
He drops to one knee, and cheers fill the air. I cover my mouth with my hands. “In that case, Felicity James, would you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Bixintxo Garaile Indar Amestoy?” He pulls a small black velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal an intricately carved ring covered in tiny diamonds. It reminds me of the night sky when we made love by the fire.
“Yes, Fierce Amestoy. I will marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.”
He jumps to his feet with a cheer, slipping the ring on my finger and saying, “The jeweler called it a firefly ring. I hope you feel it’s worthy of you.”
“I love it,” I exclaim, staring up at his grinning face, tears in my eyes. The musicians break into another percussive serenade as the cafe patrons applaud. Fierce’s firm, strong mouth covers mine. His velvety tongue sweeps into my mouth, dissolving any worries or fears still lingering in my mind, and I melt into my groom-to-be.
“I don’t know how long it will take me to learn how to pronounce and spell your real name,” I confess breathlessly as he showers my face in kisses, ending with my dimples and the cleft of my chin.
“We have a whole lifetime for that, Firefly,” he grins, holding me closer. “But first, we must meet your parents. Let us hope there will be less drama.”
“Compared to a large, traditional Basque family in the midst of arranging a marriage from the Old World for their son? My family gatherings will be downright tame…even a little boring.”
Fierce smiles, his large, straight, white teeth shining. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a little boring.”
“As long as it involves forever with you, absolutely!”
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