Chapter 24Ethan
Chapter 24
Ethan
The entire town feels alive tonight, with the townspeople milling around, listening to live music, with food trucks selling food with delicious aromas, and street performers pulling in the crowds. There’s a living statue whose clothes are painted entirely in gold, a magician doing card tricks, and jugglers, juggling multiple items from oranges to balls and even knives.
That last one we steered well clear of for obvious reasons.
Tonight is the Festival of Lake Lights and Ami and I walk hand in hand through the crowds, sampling drinks and snacks, stopping to chat to locals, simply happy to be here with one another. An accordionist plays what Ami tells me are traditional Malveauxian folk tunes, that echo across the cobblestone streets, creating a unique atmosphere I’ve not experienced before.
We stop and have our caricatures drawn, laughing at the way he draws Ami’s eyes so huge she just looks like the Disney princess I once thought she resembled, and my jaw so exaggerated I look like Joe Swanson from that cartoon, Family Guy .
I’m aware that this perfect time we've had together here in this town is going to be over tomorrow, and I’ll have to face some hard truths. Like the fact that Ami’s a princess, with royal duties and a life full of rules, who lives in a country thousands of miles from my home. That I’m an actor, committed to the next two seasons of the show, and whatever other projects Dion has scoped out for me in all his agent wisdom.
We've come so far, Ami and me. From strangers to housemates and work colleagues, to both developing feelings for one another in secret, to then admitting who we really are and deepening our connection beyond anything I’ve experienced before.
It sure has been a journey, but you know what? As I look at Ami, smiling and nodding her head as Francine tells her about the lanterns on the lake, the destination we’ve reached has made it all worthwhile.
I’ve not told Ami that I’ve fallen in love with her yet, this beautiful woman with the sparkling smile and zest for life, the princess who treats everyone with kindness and respect. Ami is one in a billion. I am so thankful we found one another, and I never want to let her go.
And tonight, for our last night in Montelac, I have a plan.
Everyone tells me the lanterns on the lake are beautiful, the perfect backdrop for showing her my heart, for whispering the truth that I’ve fallen in love with her, deeply and completely.
“Francine has promised to make those delicious cinnamon buns again tomorrow. We can come by and have some before we have to leave,” Ami says, her eyes bright. “Isn't that right, Francine?”
“For you? Anything,” she replies, smiling at Ami like an indulgent grandmother.
“I adore you, Francine. You're the best boss I've ever had, and I’m going to miss you.” Ami gives her a hug.
The fact she's the only boss she's ever had doesn't need mentioning.
“I have so enjoyed having you at my café,” she says.
“It’s been a blast. Thanks for everything,” I reply, giving her a hug, too.
As I place my arm around Ami’s shoulders, Francine says, “Did you know tradition holds that wishes made during the festival, when the water glows bright, will come true?”
“How wonderful,” Ami says before she adds quietly for my ears only, her breath tickling my neck, “I know what I'm going to wish for.”
“World peace? Wait, you're not a beauty pageant contestant.”
“See you later, Francine,” Ami says, and we make our way over to the growing crowd.
“Tell me what you’re going to wish for,” I say.
“You'll have to guess.”
I come to a stop and turn to face her. “How about I tell you what my wish would be instead?”
“I have a feeling we might be wishing for the same thing.”
“To always be like this, just you and me at the Festival of Lake Lights, here in Montelac on the beautiful Lac des Rêves, our little sanctuary.”
Her eyes are intense in the soft evening light. “Our little sanctuary,” she echoes, her beautiful lips pulled into a smile that lights up her entire face.
Someone barks out a laugh nearby, pulling us back from our shared wish.
“Come on. Let’s see what’s caught everyone’s attention,” I say, leading her to the performers.
It turns out they’re traditional Malveauxian folk dancers, dressed in regional costumes that make them look Germanic to me, dancing in couples. They twist and they turn, the women leaping into their partners’ arms who twirl them around in death defying moves.
“They’re amazing,” Ami says. “So talented.”
I kiss the top of her head as I stand close behind her, watching the dancers, my arms held around her waist.
This. This is what I've been missing from my life. A deep connection to another human being, honest, vulnerable, and true. No agenda. Nothing but a desire to be together, sharing the small moments in life.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy, this complete.
They finish their dance and curtsy and bow to the applauding crowd.
“Do you want to go eat? I saw a crêpe truck back that-a-ways that smelled pretty good,” I say, gesturing with my thumb over my shoulder.
“Eating street food is absolutely forbidden, you know.”
“Let's break that rule in two.”
She grins at me. “You are a man who speaks my language.”
I take her hand and lead her through the crowd until my hand snaps free. I look back at her to see her staring at something, tensed up, her face thunder.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s her ,” Ami replies, her face blanched white.
“Who?”
“That woman with the blonde hair and glasses over there. That’s Fabiana Fontaine, the columnist who always writes about my family. She’s a notorious royal gossip columnist. What is she doing here?”
I look over to see a petite woman, her blonde hair held in a ponytail, wearing a pair of glasses, speaking rapidly with a man.
“Do you think she knows I’m here?” Ami asks, her face creased with anxiety.
“If she doesn’t already, I think we’d better get out of here before she does.”
Ami nods rapidly. “Yes. Good thinking.”
Quickly, and without looking back, we make our way to the food truck and order our crêpes: mine a traditional ham and cheese, and Ami’s goat cheese and honey with walnuts.
Ami’s on edge, her eyes constantly flitting around the crowd.
“Let’s head down to the lake. I bet it’s busy down there with people watching the lanterns. We can merge into the crowd.”
“Ethan, she can’t expose me. We’ll be headline news, and my parents?” She sucks in a breath. “My parents will be apoplectic.”
Her words hit me in the chest. Hard. I don’t want what we’ve shared here to become public. This is our time, our space. We only have tonight, and then tomorrow this will all be over. I don’t want to lose what precious time we have left.
“Let’s not panic, okay? She might just be here for the festival,” I say, but Ami shoots me a look that shows she doesn’t believe me.
She hides behind a tree as I pay for our dinner, and then we high tail it down to the lake, not looking back.
When we reach the lake’s edge, the shore is lined with people, just as I’d expected. Hundreds of lanterns are floating on the lake, like little stars, bobbing in the water. The lighting, like always in this town, is soft enough to fit the evening vibe, but bright enough so we can see one another clearly.
“I think we’ll be safe here,” I say, looking around.
“I hope so. I don’t want that woman destroying our night.”
I take her hand in mine. “I won’t let her,” I reply, not knowing how I’ll manage it, but knowing it’s important that I find a way. “I’ve got your back. Always.”
She smiles at me, her features softening. “I know you do. And I have yours.”
Some people vacate a bench seat overlooking the lake, and we claim it. Sitting side by side, our dinner in our hands, I look out at the lanterns on the lake.
“Could this spot get any more romantic?” I ask, hoping to lighten her mood.
She shifts closer to me and leans her head on my shoulder. “It’s absolutely perfect. You know my sister went to a town festival in the Ledonian mountains and fell in love under the lanterns. I can see why. They’re so … luminous.”
“Lights that are luminous? Wow,” I tease and I’m thankful to hear her laugh. “Let’s eat and then head back to the house. We’ll be safer there.”
“Good plan.” She lifts her crêpe to her nose and breathes in the aroma. “I think this is the best smell in the world. Well, other than you, that is.”
“I beat out crêpes in the smell stakes? Winning ,” I reply, and win a smile from Ami.
“I missed your smile for a moment there.”
We both unwrap our crêpes, biting into the soft, buttery treat.
“This is easily the best thing I’ve eaten in my life,” Ami says around her mouthful.
I let out a soft laugh, filled with the most incredible sense that this woman at my side, her mouth full of crêpe, is my person.
“What? Have I got something on my face?” She lifts her hand to her cheek, and I gently wrap my fingers around her wrist and place it against my chest.
“I can feel your heartbeat.”
My heart is thudding with the certainty of the way I feel. I look into her eyes and say, “I know we've only known each other for a handful of weeks,” I begin.
“Four. It’s been four,” she says.
“Four weeks. It’s not long, but it’s long enough for me to know that the time I've spent with you has been the best of my life, and I don't want this to end.”
Her gaze is intense as she looks back at me. “I don't want it to end, either,” she says, her voice breathless.
“I love you, Ami,” I tell her, my heart beating like a drum, swept up in the moment. Swept up in her . “Body and soul, I’m yours.”
Her lips curve into a smile, her eyes glistening. “I love you, too, Ethan,” she breathes, and before you can say “forgotten crêpe,” we've closed what distance there was between us, and become wrapped up in the most emotional and heartfelt kiss.
“I love you with all my heart, and I want us to stay together when all of this goes away, when we're back in our regular lives. I want it so, so much. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“I want that more than anything, too,” I say. I pull back from her and look her square in the eyes. “Let's make it happen. No matter what. You and me.”
She lets out a gurgling laugh as her tears make tracks down her face. “You and me.”
I pull her against me and kiss her once more, my heart so full of love for this incredible woman in my arms, it could explode, right here on the shores of the Lake of Dreams.
“I’m so glad I walked into that costume store,” I tell her, and I can feel her soft laugh reverberating in my chest.
“You’re not the most convincing of goths, you know.”
“Hey, I’m an actor. I take professional offence at that.”
There’s a sudden high-pitched squeal that takes us by surprise, just like the night we walked along the shore, our footsteps glowing behind us.
“There’s that noise again!” Ami yells over the screeching.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stops.
Ami snuggles against me. “It must be the bugs again.”
I hold her, my mind racing. The sound is familiar not because we've heard it by the lake before, but because it's a noise I've heard on set.
Audio feedback.
But that's crazy. Why would there be audio feedback here in Montelac? We're not on set. We're outside on the edge of a picturesque lake with the entire town gathered for the festival.
But there are other things I’ve noticed, things that add up to… I don’t quite know what.
“Ami?” I ask softly. “Have you noticed anything … weird about this town?”
“Like what?”
“I don't know. Like how the lighting is always perfect wherever we go. How people part so we can walk through. That flash mob that performed just for us, like they knew we would walk through the square at that exact moment.”
“People are just nice here, and maybe a little eccentric. That's all.” She pushes herself up to look at me. “What's with the sudden paranoia? Is it because I saw Fabiana Fontaine here? Has she put you on edge, too?”
“I don't know where it comes from. I guess it's just this feeling in my gut that things aren’t quite right here. It’s like they're almost too perfect, you know?”
“We're not in some spy movie,” she says as she reaches up to kiss me. “It's perfect because this is a beautiful place, the place we fell in love.”
I let out a breath, my shoulders relaxing. “You're probably right. I'm adding two plus two and getting paranoia.”
“I know exactly how to fix that.” She pulls me into another kiss, the kind where I could forget my own name.
Pulling back, I grin at her. “That did the trick.”
“I thought it might,” she replies with a smile.
Something captures my attention over her shoulder. “Is that bush moving?”
She swings around to look. “I think you’re seeing things, Ethan.”
But my curiosity gets the better of me. “I’m gonna go check it out,” I say, rising to my feet and striding over to the bush. Something catches the light, and I reach in, my hand landing on something warm that doesn’t feel as though it belongs in nature.
“What is it?” Ami asks, arriving at my side as I clasp the smooth surface and give it a yank.
I pull on the object and it pops out of the bush, a red light flashing. There are dark cables connecting it to something, I don’t know what, and immediately my heart begins to thud.
“It looks like a camera,” I say. I turn to look at the bench we only just vacated. “Someone was filming us,” I say, hardly believing my words.
“Why would they do that?” Ami asks, her voice breathless with anxiety. “Could it just be a security camera?”
I don’t reply. I’m too busy rolling through the possibilities in my mind.
A camera hidden in a bush.
That shrieking audio feedback sound we’ve heard more than once.
The lighting that creates the perfect ambience but is always bright enough that we can see one another’s faces.
The fact that this place is always picture-perfect, like a TV set.
A TV set.
My actor’s instincts recognize the setup.
My belly ties in knots.
I swing my attention around, noticing for the first time that people have stopped watching the lanterns bobbing on the lake, and are instead watching us.
“What’s going on here?” I demand. “This is a camera!” I hold the offending item up as evidence.
“Ethan, who are you yelling at?” Ami asks.
It's then that I notice a figure dressed all in black, half obscured by one of the tree trunks that line the promenade. The person sees me looking and immediately darts behind the tree.
I dash over and manage to grab the person’s arm.
“Hey, let go of me!” the guy yells, his eyes wild.
“You’re American?” I ask.
“Canadian, but whatever,” he replies.
“What are you doing here?” I demand and the guy’s panicked gaze immediately flicks toward the crowd.
I follow his line of sight to see the woman Ami was so thrown by back in the town square. Fabiana Fontaine, the columnist Fabiana Fontaine. She's standing beside a middle-aged man, also dressed in black, whose eyes are trained directly on me.
And then it all clicks into place
“Why are you doing this?” I ask in shock.
His face blanches. “Don't ask me. I just work here.”
“Who should I ask then?”
“Him.” He gestures toward the middle-aged man next to Fabiana Fontaine.
“Ethan? What's going on?” Ami asks, appearing at my side, her voice strangled with fear.
I stalk toward Fabiana and the man, my jaw set, my belly clenched. “Why are you filming us?” I demand.
I don't know whether it's the man or the columnist looking for dirt on Amelia, but whoever it is and whatever their motivation, I'm determined to find out—and make them pay.
The man in black crosses his arms, glaring. “You're fired,” he calls out, and I swing around to see the guy I was just talking with scuttle away.
It's then I notice things I hadn't given a second thought to. Things that don't fit. Bushes that look out of place, doubtlessly concealing camera equipment. Streetlights that illuminate their paths to studio level perfection. I look up to see a boom, held in place by wires overhead.
How could I not have noticed? Now that I see it, it's everywhere, screaming at me that this isn't just a town where the people are unusually hospitable, where flash mobs occur for no reason, and people offer roses like they're on a reality TV show.
Wait.
A reality TV show?
The world tilts on its axis.
“You are filming us,” I accuse, aghast, my words barely audible over the frenetic drumming of my heart, like thunder in my chest.
I’m Truman Burbank, living in the Truman Show , an unwitting participant in the record of the past month of my life.
I dart my accusatory gaze between the man in black and the columnist for my answer.
“You've been even better than we’d hoped,” the middle-aged man says in English, his accent American.
It's like the air has been sucked from my lungs as my brain crackles with electricity, trying to make sense of what's been going on.
I look back to see a frightened Ami, watching on.
“Why can’t you just leave her alone? All she wants is some time to herself away from people like you.” I glare at them both.
The man’s face lights up. “Oh, you think this is all about your little princess girlfriend?”
“How dare you demean her like that!” I spit, outrage tensing every muscle in my body.
“It’s all been about you, Ethan. The princess was just an unexpected added extra.”
His words shatter like glass around me.
It’s all been about … me ?
My mind scrambles.
Me “accidentally” choosing Malveaux on Chelsea’s map.
Chelsea's suggestion to stay at her “friend’s” lake house, a friend who turned out to be my slippery agent, Dion.
Ami and I getting the first job we applied for, without having to produce a CV or prove our skills, both of us thinking we were disguised in our goth costumes.
The old bookshop where the proprietor tried to matchmake us over tea.
The flash mob, the townspeople’s dance moves so perfectly synchronized as they danced for our entertainment.
The roses we were given at the end of it by Giovanna the actress and Pierre, the smooth guy who looks like he should be in an aftershave ad.
The town, like a European Hallmark movie set.
And then my heart seems to stop altogether.
Ami.
Ami .
Is she part of this? Was she pretending all along? The so-called Dutch tourist who just happened to be in that costume store that day and then turned up on my train.
The bored princess who wanted to escape her life and break all the rules.
Could she have been pretending all along?
My mind whirring, I’m pulled back to the present as the man passes me a phone. Out of instinct, I take it, lifting it to my ear.
“Ethan! Dion,” the disembodied voice says at the other end. “This thing has been better than we even dreamed . You, falling in love with a princess? It’s gold! Gold!”
“W-what?” I ask, dumbfounded, barely able to speak.
“I told you to leave everything to me, but you? Man, you hit it out of the park! This thing is gonna go viral. You’re made, my friend. Made!”
His words come into sharp focus. “You? You're behind this?”
“Of course I am. Don't forget you gave me free reign. Ha! That was a royal pun. Do you get it?”
He's making jokes now?
I fight to get my pulse under control. “Let me get this straight. You set up a reality TV show to follow my every move while I was on a break from work, a break you agreed I needed to take, and now you're happy that you think this is going to go viral?”
“You're welcome,” he replies with his smarmy, superior voice. “Just think of the money, the exposure! The fact you didn’t know about it? Heck, you’ll forget that soon enough.”
My anger boils over as I clutch the phone to my ear, my entire body tense. “Dion? You're fired.” Without listening to his response, I throw the phone at the man, who catches it, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
“You'll thank us one day,” he has the gall to tell me.
“Thank you? I think you mean sue you ,” I spit, my anger clutching at my chest, forcing my breath to shallow.
“Why are you here, Fabiana? Is Ethan right? You’ve been filming us?” Ami asks, her voice trembling.
Fabiana Fontaine lifts her hands in surrender. “I had nothing to do with this, Your Royal Highness. I promise you that.”
“How could I ever believe you? You're always looking for a story about my family, but I didn't know you would stoop so low as to do this!” Ami says, her eyes wide with shock.
But I'm not thinking about Fabiana Fontaine and her alleged underhand tactics.
No. I'm too horrified that this crew has been capturing our movements, cataloguing our intimate moments, captured for nothing more than entertainment.
My life, laid bare for all to see.
With my breath ragged I force myself to ask the question that's burning through my brain. The question I don't even want to know the answer to.
“Are you a part of this?” I ask Ami, my heart beating so hard it could shatter my ribs.
She turns her gaze to mine, her eyes wide, a look of utter bewilderment on her face. “I could ask you the same question.”
“What?”
“You're the actor. How do I know you didn't get me to come here under false pretenses to be part of this—” she gestures around at the crowd, everyone gawking at us, any pretense that this is a town festival now gone. “This fiasco?!”
It's like all the hubbub around us, all the people watching us, Fabiana Fontaine and the producer and the cameraman and people in black managing lighting and booms. All of it merges into the background, blurred so there's only me and Ami.
“Think about it. Why would I do something like that? I came here to get away from all of this,” I ask.
“I don't know. I just don’t know,” she replies, her voice strangled and small as tears pool in her eyes.
And then Max arrives, pulling Amelia away, and the ensuing shouting and flashes and noise meld into a disorienting blur.
And I'm left standing alone, my mind spinning in a thousand different directions, trying to make sense of it all.
Everything I thought was real—this town, our connection, our love—suddenly feels manufactured.
Was any of it authentic?
Or were we both just pawns in someone else's game?
I search the dispersing crowd for Ami's face, but she's gone, swept away back to her real life, just as I'm being pulled back to mine.
The realization hits me like ice water.
I don't know who to trust anymore.
Not my agent.
Not this town.
Not the woman I just told I loved.
And maybe, worst of all, I can't even trust my own feelings, my own judgment. Because if I could fall for something this orchestrated, this fake, what does that say about everything I thought was true?