Page 101 of When Ben Loved Jace

Jace sighs in exasperation as he stands again. “I’ve been improvising.” He moves his chair closer to mine before sitting. “I knew I wanted to propose on this trip because, well, it’s Paris.”

“Good call,” I say, nodding in approval.

“I hid the ring in a pair of my jeans. In the little pocket that’s always inside the right pocket, to be specific. What’s that for, anyway?”

“No idea, but that explains your reaction when I unpacked everything.”

“I was worried you had found the ring, or worse, that it had fallen out and gotten lost because you didn’t know to be careful. I’ve been carrying it with me ever since. I thought about proposing during the boat ride, but there were too many other people around. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ashamed. I’m proud of my love for you. I just wanted the proposal to be romantic, and I figured it would be better to charter a private boat on a different night—”

“Was that the call I interrupted?”

Jace laughs. “Uh… no. We only had one day left at that point, and the boats were all booked, so I came up with a different plan. You had just discovered macrons the day before, and I wondered if the ring could be baked into one somehow—maybe while sticking out of the top—but between my broken French and the ridiculous idea, the chef thought an American was calling to ask if he’d make donuts. And he wasn’t pleased, so I was glad for the excuse to hang up. That brings us to today, when I was getting desperate, but I’d watched you eat a croissant each morning and knew that youalwaysstarted by tearing them in half.”

“Except I didn’t this time,” I say with a grimace.

“No, you didn’t, which just about gave me a heart attack. I thought for sure that if you didn’t choke on the ring, you’d at least break a tooth. Or that the ring would go flying off the balcony when you were waving the croissant around.”

I shake my head ruefully. “This is why most guys opt for a little black box. You know, the kind that’s designed for keeping a ring safe and secure?”

“I wanted it to be memorable,” Jace says with a smile.

“Like I’ll ever forget this moment!” I bite my lower lip, only releasing it again to ask, “So what’s next?”

“We’ll have breakfast,” Jace says, “while getting a little tipsy like two teenagers who think they are pirates. Then I’m going to carry you to bed and make love to my fiancé for the first time. Afterwards, we can talk about how the big day should go. Unless you want to leave the wedding planning to me, in which case, I’d advise you to review everything I just revealed.”

I chuckle. “Let’s make it a team effort this time.”

Jace takes his glass and hands me my own, his gaze filled with adoration. “I’ll drink to that.”

Chapter Twenty-four

The weather is perfect, with just enough scattered clouds to stop the sun from being overwhelming. I’m acutely aware of this because I keep glancing skyward in exasperation. So far, getting married isnothinglike I imagined. Stories always focus on the ceremony—that sacred moment at the altar where two people enter into the bonds of holy matrimony. In reality, a wedding is mostly a social occasion to which you’ve foolishly invited everyone you’ve ever known, ensuring that you’re the constant center of attention when all you really want is to be with the person you love most. I can only blame myself—and maybe my future husband—since we planned it this way. Most brides show up at the church and get escorted down the aisle. I didn’t want anything so stuffy, or apparently, that efficient.

“We’ll just ask everyone to show up at the park around noon. Once they get there, that’s when we’ll begin.”

I’d craved a relaxed atmosphere, imagining Jace at my side as we made the rounds to graciously greet our favorite people. That’s where the plan took a wrong turn, because I’ve barely had a chance to exchange a single word with him. At the moment, he’s elsewhere on the green lawn, engaged in conversation with Bernie and his wife. Hopefully getting some insider tips on the Hawaiian honeymoon we’re embarking on tomorrow. I have no way of knowing. I’ve tried to join him three times already, but there’s always someone well-meaning who—

“I’m so proud of you,” my mother says. “You couldn’t have found a sweeter man to spend the rest of your life with.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say, returning my attention to her. “I got lucky. He really is the most amazing guy.”

“Your grandparents on your mother’s side weren’t as sure about me,” my dad chimes in. “Only because the night that I met them, they had me over for dinner, and I’d eaten some bad fish during lunch—”

“Maybe not the best story to trot out today,” my mom chimes in.

“—and I was sick to my stomach,” my father continues unabashed. “Your grandmother made her famous green bean casserole, and your grandfather had grilled some steaks. I didn’t want to offend either of them by refusing to eat. Or by barfing,but eventually, I didn’t really have a choice, and when I rushed to the restroom—”

“You mean the coat closet?” my mother interjects.

“I’d never been to their house before! Anyway, my advice to you is, if you feel like throwing up, get it out of the way now, before the ceremony.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, shaking my head while laughing. “Luckily, I was too nervous to eat anything this morning. But Ididbring a toothbrush, in case I felt like freshening up.”

“Good call, Son.”

“Are those Jace’s parents?” my mother asks, peering elsewhere.

I follow her gaze. “Yeah! I’ll introduce you.”