Epilogue
February 26, 2013
The opening night of my exhibit was held on the 22nd, and almost seventy percent of the twenty-seven exhibited portraits were sold that day. The event had been a huge success, and after all the hard work, I was giving myself some time to recover and explore the city with William. I needed to stay in Paris for ten more days, and William would keep me company.
Against all odds, my dad flew to Paris and showed up for the opening. A part of me still doubted he would take the time off his busy schedule to attend, but he did. We were still taking things slow with our relationship. We weren’t talking or seeing each other much, but our interactions felt light, genuine, and peaceful when we did. It wasn’t about trying to rebuild our relationship, but trying to build a new one from scratch.
Leaving my job at Haute Magazine to pursue my personal projects had been worth it, although it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. The change in rhythm was challenging at first, and I missed hanging out with some of my coworkers I’d bonded with over the years. I had to learn how to manage my schedule and keep myself motivated. It’s not the same when you’re just being told what to do all day.
When I started working on my exhibit, the first thing I did was launch a request for participation on my Instagram page to invite people interested in sharing their experience with grief and who were willing to have their portraits taken. William didn’t even have to post the announcement on his feed to give it a little boost because I was flooded with hundreds of emails in the first few days alone.
I was heartbroken and cried reading most emails I received, but I set myself out to reply to every one of them. A week after the announcement, I had to edit my post to remove my email address and inform everyone that the submissions were closed. I was going to have trouble choosing among the people who had signed up.
Diversity was the most important factor for me when choosing the final participants. I wanted to portray how grief is a universal aspect of the human condition that connects experiences and emotions across cultures and societies, regardless of background, race, gender, sexual orientation, or nationality.
There were so many people whose stories captivated me, and I didn’t want to leave them out. So I chose twenty-five extra people to make a single piece out of the twenty-five shots. Meeting and photographing everyone had been an incredible and hectic experience, but I felt so grateful to have had the support of numerous people for this project.
A friend of Lily’s let me use her studio in Chelsea to photograph the final fifty chosen for the exhibit. The show featured two extra pieces: Louis’s portrait and a self-portrait. It seemed fair to include it and share some of my vulnerability with the audience after so many people had done the same with me.
William and I reached Tuileries after walking past the United States Ambassador’s Residence to show him where I lived for four years. William joked about wanting to knock on the Residence’s gate to see if we could get a tour of the place. And I had to pull him away, afraid he might actually do so.
I couldn’t believe how much things had changed since the last time I was in Paris. Naturally, I shared many stories with him about my time here.
The afternoon was a bit chilly, so we didn’t stop at the Bassin Octagonal because the only way to stay warm was to keep walking. Of course, the Viking blood running through William’s veins made him feel the weather was wonderful and perfect. And it was, but I thrived on slightly warmer weather that didn’t make my nose runny from the cold.
As we strolled through Tuileries, tourists and locals alike inevitably recognized William and asked for photos. He kept apologizing after every selfie, but I didn’t care. I loved how much people loved him. And even if he had decided to leave acting behind, he would always and forever remain the beloved William Sj?berg.
“I’d probably stop you for a photo even if you weren’t famous,” I teased. He laughed and ran his arm around my shoulders as we walked under the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel.
“Have you been inside the Louvre?” I asked as we reached the Louvre’s esplanade, where the glass pyramid was.
“Don’t judge me,” he warned. “But I’ve never been.”
I gasped with horror. “You haven’t?”
“Feeling judged over here,” he replied with a laugh.
“You are being judged,” I confirmed. “You’ve been to Paris so many times. Aren’t you a bit curious?”
“It’s always full of people, and it would be virtually impossible for me to walk around in peace.”
“They’re closing soon.” I checked my watch. It was 4:30 p.m., and the museum usually closed at 6:00 p.m. “Maybe people are tired by now and won’t notice your presence,” I chuckled after saying that, knowing perfectly well William wasn’t the type of man who could go unnoticed in a crowd of people. “If we hurry, we can do an express visit and see the Mona Lisa and a few paintings nearby. A Vermeer, a Caravaggio, a Delacroix, and my favorite painting, the one I’ve told you about.”
“Okay.” He kissed my cheek and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go check it out.”
“Wait.” I took out my phone and snapped a selfie of us with the glass pyramid in the background. The sky had turned a lovely shade of pink.
As we approached the entrance, I stopped walking abruptly. “Shit, it’s Tuesday.”
“So?” William raised a brow.
“The museum is closed on Tuesdays.”
“It’s a good thing I know a secret passageway into the museum, then.” He grabbed my hand and started walking.
“What secret passageway?” I walked as fast as I could to match his pace. “William, I don’t want to end up in jail.”
“You won’t,” he promised. “I might. But you’ll be fine.”
“There are entrances to provide expedited access for VIP visitors, and I’m sure you would qualify as such,” I said with a giggle, trying to talk him out of whatever madness he had in mind. “That’s how my dad and I got in last time.”
“No time for VIP tours.” He kept walking with resolute decisiveness, and I had no choice but to follow him. “Trust me.”
“Who even told you about this … secret entrance?” I said between nervous pants. Thank God I was wearing tennis shoes. “We’re going to get caught!”
William ignored me and kept walking past the inner esplanade, slowing his pace as we crossed the Port des Arts arched threshold leading to Pont des Arts. The Louvre’s gate, or something beyond it, was being renovated. Without a second thought, William opened a beige metallic service door to our right and hauled me inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Seems like we’re in,” he whispered with a chuckle, caging me against the door between his arms.
“You’re insane!” I whispered back.
“Come on.”
Shaking my head with disapproval, I followed him down the passageway. The nerves alone were going to kill me.
The view was blocked since we were walking through what seemed like a provisional service corridor, but from the location, I knew the Jardin de L’Infante was to our left.
We reached the main building, and William smirked over his shoulder at me. “Ready to break into the Louvre?”
“No!”
He laughed without a care in the world, and I covered his mouth with my hand.
“William, this is not one of your action movies where you get away with it and everything turns out okay,” I kept complaining. “We’re going to get—”
He pushed the door open before I could say caught, and we were inside the Louvre in the Department of Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Antiquities in the Denon Wing. It was empty and eerily quiet.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
He pressed a finger against my lips to silence me and shook his head, zipping his mouth with two fingers. I nodded, feeling my heart rate spiking from the adrenaline flooding my bloodstream.
William pressed his lips to my ear and said, “Take me to your painting—the one you love.” I glared at him, his face a breath away from mine. At this moment, I loved and hated him in equal parts. “We don’t have much time.”
Taking a deep breath, I grasped William’s hand, turned left, and hurried past various sculptures, pottery, jewelry, and other archaeological finds, trying my best to block out of my mind that we had broken into a museum. And not just any museum … the freaking Louvre! It was a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds, before we would inevitably get caught by security.
We were very close to La Salle des états, a few steps away, and we would see The Mona Lisa and my favorite painting in front of it and get the hell out. I could see ourselves handcuffed with our faces on the floor and William laughing, thinking it was a fun experience.
Twinkling lights glowed brightly from La Salle des états as we approached it. When I finally crossed the entrance to the right, with William behind me, I brought my hands to my mouth, completely in awe of the scene in front of me.
Hundreds, maybe thousands, of small electric candles decorated the floor, creating a circular pattern that scattered the farther they got from my favorite Veronese painting.
“What is this?” I turned around, and William grabbed my hands, giving me one of his beautiful smiles that wrinkled the corners of his eyes and melted my insides.
“First of all,” he said, his voice slightly shaking. “They know we’re here, and no one’s coming to arrest us.” He blew a nervous breath to the side that puffed up his cheeks. “And secondly, I’m sure you’d want to tell me all about your favorite painting, but the truth is I looked it up, and after researching more about it, I can see why you love it so much.”
I could feel my breath catching in my chest as I listened to him talk. They knew we were here. He planned this. Of course, he did. No wonder he insisted on going out for a walk earlier when I told him I wanted to take a bath with a shit ton of bubbles and continue reading the thriller on my nightstand. “You can do that once we return,” he said. And as usual, I could never deny him anything.
“There are many symbols and interpretations, but one of my favorite ones touches on the mystical significance of the transformation of water into wine as a symbol of spiritual alchemy and inner fulfillment,” William began to explain, his grave, soothing voice pulling me back to the present moment. “And this immediately made me think of you—of us—of how my life turned upside down in the best possible way when I met you. Knowing you pushed me into becoming the person I’ve always wanted to be, and as time goes by, you’ve been an inspiration to maintain myself in a constant state of transformation.
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, nothing I wouldn’t risk or sacrifice to ensure your happiness because it directly translates into mine.” William lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed them, but before he could lower them back, I took his hands to my mouth and kissed them too, feeling my chest swelling with pure bliss.
“The other interesting symbolism I found in this painting is how the overflowing abundance of wine represents spiritual abundance, inner fulfillment, and the realization of one’s true potential,” he explained. “And I know that if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have challenged myself to get out of my comfort zone and explore other things close to my heart, nor would I have pushed myself to earn my culinary degree once and for all. I fear I would have stayed in a constant state of comfortable stagnation, growing as an actor but not really as a person.
“But that being said, all my experiences have blessed me with abundant wealth, and the best way to express my gratitude toward the universe is to have someone to share it with. From the moment I met you, I’ve wanted to give you everything I have, and I’ve had to constantly fight you on it because I know how important it is for you to feel self-sufficient and unrestrained. You were taught that accepting money or financial support came at a high cost to your freedom. But as long as you let me take care of you, I promise never to hold it over your head or think I’m entitled to control you in any way, shape, or form.
“Owning and operating our winery as equal partners makes even more sense now and serves as a symbol and reminder of this shared abundance and respect I’ll always have for you as a business, life, and romantic partner.”
William let go of my hands and reached inside his inner coat pocket, pulling out a small, green, velvet box, and got down on one knee. My sobs flooded the empty gallery room, and I covered my mouth with my hands, trying to calm myself, but failed. I was overtaken with emotion.
“Marry me, Guille.” He opened the box, and a familiar oval-shaped solitaire diamond gleamed on a thin, golden band, dazzling me with its perfect brilliance. “My entire heart and soul are already forever yours.”
“Yes!” I cried, the non-stop shuddering pants impeding me from formulating a longer sentence. I extended my shaking hand and watched as William placed my mom’s engagement ring on my finger.
He stood and embraced me, lifting me from the floor and spinning me. “I was terrified you’d say no,” he said, staring into my eyes after a few spins.
“No, you were not.” I laughed through the tears. “There’s not a single universe where I say no to you.”
“Wife,” he whispered in my ear, making my entire body vibrate with adoration. He kissed me, his soft, warm lips meeting mine as he slowly put me back on my feet. He grabbed my face and broke off the kiss for a second to say, “The gods are never mistaken.”