She lifted her left hand, looking at the ring. “Anton, this is too much.”
“Nothing is too good for you.”
Her parents came around the table and congratulated us.
The moment transformed. We each got a glass of wine to celebrate, the sound of laughter mingling with clinking glasses diffusing all the worries that had plagued us since yesterday. As the conversation drew to a close, the initial chill thawed somewhat, replaced by a cautious hope. Together, we began to discuss practical steps forward, forming a united front against the storm brewing beyond the walls of the Adams’ home.
“I don’t know how much we can help except by being a listening ear. Those legal dealings you’ll be doing are foreign to us.”
“Mr. Adams, being a listening ear is the most important thing I need. As a lawyer who knows what is required, and how it’s done, I’ll be bombarded with advice from people who have no idea what they are talking about.”
Celia chuckled.
“Call me Wyatt, Anton. We are practically family.”
I took a hotel room in town last evening. Celia and I planned to return to New York today after lunch with her parents. We’d just finished eating and were getting ready to head to the airport.
We hugged them and promised to see each other soon.
Arriving in New York, Celia and I took a cab to my parents’ house.
“What a busy weekend. Sorry I have to drag you with me,” I told Celia.
“I understand, handsome.” She smoothed out my hair.
I took her hand and kissed it. “Two of four explanations, coming up. It’s considerate that I tell my family my version of the story before the press conference tomorrow, you know.”
“I do.”
I felt such peace I couldn’t describe, all because this woman had agreed to marry me. I pulled my fiancée to my chest in the back of the cab. “Mine,” I murmured in her ear and kissed her hair. “How do you feel about coming to work tomorrow?” I asked her.
She scrunched her nose. “I'd rather not…if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Better for you to wait out for the eye of the storm to pass,” I told her. “And, love, thank you for everything.”
“I haven’t done anything.” She snuggled closer.
“Accepting me with my ‘elite’ problems is everything you could have done.”
“In that case, you’re welcome.” She went on to give me a kiss on my cheek, but I turned and captured her mouth.
“Anton!” she scolded quietly. “We’re in the cab.”
“I know,” I replied in an equally hushed tone.
She gently elbowed me. “That’s how we got into deeper trouble with a public display of affection, and our picture was taken.”
“The more reason to give those photographers a picture-worthy scene, you know. I’m thinking…Times Square stroll; then, I pick you up and sit you on my shoulders…. That would do very well.”
She chuckled. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“Nope. It will happen.”
“Are you serious?” Her eyes widened, and she stared at me, searching my face for any sign of a joke. When I remained stoic, her mouth parted slightly, and her hand instinctively reached for her chest as if to steady herself.
“Yes. I would rather tell you now, so you can prepare yourself.”
By the time we got out of the cab at my parents’ house, Celia looked like she might take the plane back to Texas just to avoid sitting on my shoulders on Time Square. It made me chuckle quietly—a happy chuckle. I was in the spotlight because of who I was, but I never sought publicity. It pleased me deeply that she didn’t seek publicity, either.
