12. Emma
12
Emma
I wake up the next morning with a strange mix of dread and reluctant curiosity. Each activity at Madame Amour’s workshop is like peeling back a layer of awkwardness I didn’t even know I had. And today, I have a feeling it’s going to be the pinnacle of Madame Amour’s “Let Go in Love” philosophy.
Ryan isn’t in the suite when I’m eventually ready, so I wander down to the resort’s lounge area, where the other couples are already gathered in various states of bleary-eyed reluctance. Ryan is seated on one of the overstuffed armchairs, looking over the list of activities Madame Amour has posted on the wall. His expression is one of amused horror, and as I take a seat next to him, I catch sight of the item that’s caught his eye.
“Public Displays of Affection Showcase,” I read aloud, my stomach sinking. I shoot him a look of barely concealed panic. “Are we… performing?”
Ryan nods, desperately trying to hold back a laugh. “Apparently, we’re putting on a show.” He pauses, glancing sideways at me. “For everyone.”
“Oh, great,” I mutter, gazing at the other couples, who are reading the schedule with similar expressions of bewilderment. “Exactly what I wanted. A public humiliation course.”
A few minutes later, Madame Amour sweeps into the room, wearing an outfit that’s even more theatrical than usual, though, if I’m honest, I didn’t think that was possible. But the feathered headband and red silk shawl are so over the top that I have to bite my cheek.
Clapping her hands, her bracelets jingling, she gestures for us all to stand, then ushers us into a line.
“Today, my loves, you will share with the world the sparks you’ve found! You will embrace, you will kiss, you will share glances of pure devotion,” she announces, casting a twinkling eye around the room. “Because love, my darlings, is meant to be shared! There is no shame in showing your hearts.”
My stomach suddenly does a somersault.
We’re going to be doing what, now?
Madame Amour leads us out to a grassy clearing just off the beach, announcing that this is the stage for each couple’s performance.
“We start with a simple embrace,” she warbles. “You will gaze into each other’s eyes as though you are the only two souls in the world!”
I’m now looking at Ryan with my eyebrows so high on my head that they’re kissing my hairline. Yesterday was bad enough, but this is nuts. He’s looking at me with the same trepidation, but following everyone else’s lead, we approach each other like we’re teenagers at our first dance.
Ryan places his arms around me, and I stiffen. It’s not just that we hardly know each other, it’s also the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve had a man’s arms anywhere near me.
“Now, gaze into each other’s eyes,” the psycho lady encourages.
I look at Ryan, and he looks at me. For a second, I don’t know what to do, but then I see a smirk forming on his face. I can’t help it; once the giggle bubbles up inside, I cannot stop it, and a minute later, we’re both tittering.
Madame Amour clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “Closer, my darlings! Let the feeling carry you.”
Ryan exaggeratedly steps in closer, only he loses his balance on his injured knee, and grabbing me, we both stagger off to the right, nearly falling head over tail. We’re now both in complete hysterics, much to the amusement of everyone else and the beady, disapproving eye of Madame what’s-her-face.
“Again, my dears! But this time, commit . Feel the romance, don’t just act it!”
We hurriedly straighten up, feeling reprimanded like naughty school kids. I’ve got my arms draped over his shoulders, and now, we’re a foot apart.
“Now what?” I say.
“Beats me.” Ryan shrugs, eyeing the other couples who are taking this far more seriously.
Next, Madame Amour moves us on to “affectionate gestures,” which turns out to be a mix of endearingly corny prompts. Ryan reaches out and awkwardly brushes a stray hair from my face, his fingers grazing my cheek, which tickles and has me scratching more than sighing. I try to keep a straight face, I really do, but this is just painful. Biting my lip doesn’t help, and a second later, I’m giggling uncontrollably.
“She’s going to have a breakdown if you keep laughing like this,” Ryan murmurs, struggling not to laugh with me.
“Well, we’re not the only ones struggling,” I whisper back, nodding over at the Canadian couple next to us, who’ve managed to tangle themselves up in an overly ambitious attempt at hand-holding.
Madame Amour sighs dramatically, bringing her fingers to her temples.
“Why, oh, why is there such resistance to vulnerability?” she laments, shaking her head in mock despair.
She really needs to be on stage.
Looking at us with a desperate plea, she says. “A kiss, perhaps? A soft, gentle kiss to seal your devotion?”
My eyes widen at the suggestion, and Ryan clocks my expression. I’m half-expecting him to suggest a loophole or bail on the exercise altogether, but to my surprise, he just looks at me, his expression sincere. It’s then that I can feel my cheeks reddening.
“Alright,” he murmurs, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear.
And just like that, he leans in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so unexpectedly gentle that my heart stutters. I expected him to make it a joke, to exaggerate or to mess it up somehow, but instead, he kisses me softly, his hands settling at my waist with surprising ease.
The kiss was quick, barely a few seconds, but I can’t help feeling like it held so much more than the silly demands of Madame Amour’s exercise. When we pull apart, my heart is beating a little faster, and Ryan drops his eyes, clearly unable to hold my gaze.
Madame Amour sighs behind us. “Yes, yes, that was what I was waiting for,” she purrs approvingly, clapping her hands. “You are a true darling duo , after all.”
The remaining activities only increase in absurdity, and I’m now beyond embarrassment. I can’t speak for Ryan. I’m not even sure he’s found any of this stuff that hard, but then, he is a performer, right?
We carry on, practicing everything from holding hands while reciting love poems to synchronized walking in a “symbolic display of harmony.” Of course, we botch nearly all of it, but if anything, I’m having more fun than I imagined this weekend would bring.
The more ridiculous the exercise, the easier things seem to be between us. I was a nervous wreck yesterday morning, but I’ll admit, I’m actually having fun. Besides, these performances are going to help when we have to do all this fluff in the real world.
“Darlings! This is it. The last task. The final frontier of romance!” Madame Amour declares as the sun lowers in the sky. “Now, we will solidify the bonds you have rebuilt,” she waffles on, clasping her hands to her heart. “For your last task, you write your Love Vows!”
If nothing else, my eyebrows have had more of a workout this weekend than ever before, and once more, they’re lifting high on my forehead as I glance at Ryan.
“It’s a practice of affirmations, my dears,” Madame Amour explains, gesturing with a dramatic flourish. “You will compose a short declaration, something that speaks to your partner from the heart. Let the words flow freely; allow your souls to speak!”
I swear I don’t mean to, but a groan leaves my throat, causing Madame Amour to throw me a swift scowl.
As usual, Ryan is just grinning. Whether he’s laughing at me or with me, I can’t fathom.
And then he shrugs. “I guess it’s her last-ditch attempt at making hopeless romantics out of us. But hey, we’ve come this far. Why stop now?”
With a pad and pen in hand, I park my tush on a bench nearby and wonder what the heck I’m supposed to write. I mean, I hardly know this guy.
That’s not totally true. You’ve gotten to know him over the last two weeks. And even more so these last two days.
Okay , sure, but not enough to write love vows, for Pete’s sake. But when I glance over at Ryan, I’m shocked to see him in full flow with surprising focus. His pen is going like he’s writing a novel.
After a few false starts, I finally write down my vow, still thinking this whole thing is crazy. I mean, sure, I really want a hydro pool, but there has to be an easier way to get it than this.
When Madame Amour calls us all together for the grand finale, I can feel my heart beating faster. I’m now super nervous because I realize she wants us to do this in front of everyone. Shooting Ryan a nervous glance, I’m surprised when he smiles. He then gives me a reassuring nod.
“It’ll be fine,” he mouths.
Of course, we’re the last to go, which has only made my nerves worse, and when Madame Amour looks at me, I lift my pad and feel my voice quake.
“Ryan,” I begin, not taking my eyes off the page, “I vow to laugh with you, even when things get messy, because that’s when we’ve been at our best. I vow to remember what we were, to hold on to it, and to try again to make it real. And I vow to let you in when things get difficult, even if it means letting my guard down. Because you’re worth that.”
He looks me in the eye and smiles.
“Beautiful, Emma,” the crazy woman gushes. “And now you, Ryan.”
Ryan unfolds his paper and begins to read his own vow, his voice low and steady.
“Emma, I vow to show up for you—even when it’s hard, and even when I’m not sure how to fix things. I vow to remember the things that make us who we are, the little things that make us laugh. And I vow to keep making the effort, because this weekend has reminded me just how much you mean to me.”
I blink because, honestly, I didn’t expect so much emotion to come from a guy like him, but a second later, Madame Amour is smothering him in praise, and the second is gone.
The weekend is finally over, and after we all say farewell to each other, the limo takes Ryan and me back to the airport. I cannot put my relief into words when the plane finally lifts into the sky.
We don’t say much to each other on the journey, even when we get back to Maple Springs. But when the Lincoln drops me off at my house, Ryan turns to me and says, “Thanks for this weekend. I know you weren’t looking forward to it, but I actually had fun.”
“Me, too.” I smile.
And as I walk into the house and close the door, I’m a little surprised to discover that I actually mean it.