Epilogue #2
“One more thing.” I clear my throat. “It occurred to me your pony might get lonely, so?—”
“Holy shit.” She squeals so loudly the mare skitters back. Pointing at the far end of the paddock, Camille bounces on her heels. “There’s another one!”
The shaggy white stallion stands hunched in a corner. He paws at the earth as he glances our way, in no hurry to greet us.
“Is he okay?” She frowns. “He’s not hurt, is he?”
“Just a little standoffish.” I can relate. “The rescue group said he takes time to warm up.”
“Sounds like someone I know.” She smiles and kisses my cheek. “I love them. Thank you.”
“I’ve hired a stable hand to tend them.” I don’t want Camille fretting that she’s forced to learn horse care. “And based on your weight, I’m told you can ride either pony once they’ve gotten used to you. If you’re interested, of course.”
“I’ve never ridden a pony.” She sounds thrilled by the prospect.
At the murmur of our voices, the stallion creeps closer. Camille bends down and picks up another apple slice. She feeds it to the mare while keeping one eye on the reluctant stallion.
“Good girl,” she coos. “You like that? There’s more we can share with your friend.”
The mare makes a soft little snuffling sound, which triggers the white pony to relax. He’s inching closer, and I avert my eyes in case it makes him nervous.
“Do they have names?” Camille asks.
“They do, and you’re welcome to change them. The rescue group called them Marey Poppins and Sir Trots-a-Lot.”
“That’s perfect.” She picks up another thick apple wedge as the stallion approaches. He’s nearly close enough to touch. “That’s it, good boy,” Camille murmurs. “Just a little bit further, sweetheart.”
The white pony pricks up his ears, hooves shuffling as he inches along the fence. He’s stirring up dust, snorting as though he believes it can make him sound tough.
“You’re just a big softy, aren’t you?” Camille holds out her palm with the apple, whispering sweet words to the stallion. “I promise you’ll love it.”
God, she’s amazing. The rescue group cautioned it could take weeks for Sir Trots-a-Lot to let anyone get close. And here goes Camille, taming the timid white beast in minutes.
“There you go,” she murmurs. The pony snuffles her palm, gently plucking the fruit with its whiskery lips. “What a sweet boy.”
He flutters his lips in response, making a rumbly sigh that surely has a name in equine circles. I haven’t consulted the documents. We’ll get to that later, but for now?—
“You like them?”
“I love them, Ash.” Camille turns to face me, her face bathed in joy and afternoon sunlight. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” There’s one more thing I should mention. “Since it’s a special occasion and all?—”
“It is?”
“Certainly.” I force myself to maintain a perfectly straight face. “It’s National No Pants Day.”
Camille glances down. “I’m in a skirt and you’re wearing shorts.”
“We’re such overachievers.” Also, may I just say, my wardrobe is considerably more casual these days. Camille sets me at ease in more ways than one.
I fish a hand in my pocket, fingers closing around a small metal circle. “I know we agreed it’s too soon for engagement,” I continue. “But I wondered if you might allow me to gift you a promise ring.”
Camille draws a breath. “A promise ring?”
I pull out the shiny gold band, which features an oval parti sapphire in shimmering moss green. It’s flanked by two half-moon cut black diamonds set in rose gold.
“Oh my God, Ash.” Camille starts to cry. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It belonged to my mother.” I slide the ring onto her right hand. A perfect fit. “My childhood wasn’t the best, as I know you’re aware.”
Until Camille came into my life, I never spoke about my parents. About decades of emotional abandonment and an upbringing delegated largely to nannies and au pairs.
But thanks to Camille and my therapist, I’ve been opening up just a little.
“Anyway,” I continue, clearing my throat, “this belonged to my mother. Out of hundreds of jewels in her collection, this was her favorite.”
“I can see why.” She wiggles her hand, watching the stone catch the light. “It’s absolutely stunning. Like a sparkly dragon’s egg or something.”
Her joy makes me smile, just like it always does. “It’s exquisite.”
Camille looks up, sensing a shift in my tone. “It is.”
“No, I mean, that’s what my mother used to say about it.
” I manage a smile despite the rather dull ache in my chest. “That’s where I first learned the word.
She’d take it from her jewelry box and slide it onto her hand, fluttering her fingers like this.
” I demonstrate as Camille’s eyes glint with unshed tears.
“She’d say, ‘Have you ever seen anything so exquisite?’ And I’d tell her I hadn’t, even though I had no idea what the word meant.
” I swallow hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat.
“All I knew is that ‘exquisite’ must mean the most precious, priceless treasure imaginable. That’s why I want you to have it. ”
“Oh, Ash.” Tears roll down her cheeks as she throws her arms around me. “I love it so much. And I love you .”
“I love you, too.” Her lithe little body curves against mine as we stand there holding each other. The slosh of the sea, the stir of a tropical breeze, the nicker of two happy ponies—all of it together makes this moment more perfect.
“Thank you.” She draws back and sniffles, admiring the ring on her finger. “And you’re right, we agreed that it’s too soon for engagement. But for the record, I will marry the fuck out of you the moment you ask me for real.”
“Good to know.” I already knew, to be honest. We’ll get there in our own time.
But for now, we’ll just savor the start of this journey together.
***
Swooooooon!
Oh, man…grumpy billionaires sock me in the feels every time, especially when sunshiney women bring them to their knees. Did you fall for Ash and Camille as hard as I did?
Up next, we’ve got Sara and Trent’s story and you definitely haven’t seen the last of Logan the ex-Marine consort. Their story comes next with The All-Inclusive . Here’s an exclusive peek just for you…