For my birthday that summer, he took me to Paris.
He arranged everything—brought his parents in to stay with the kids for a week, talked to April and Natalie to make sure I could get the time off, told me to pack my bags for a week away—and promised to tell me where we were going when we got to the airport.
“What? How am I supposed to pack?” I shrieked.
He had no sympathy. “Pack for an elegant destination. Not the beach. Not the mountains. Not the desert. That’s all I’m saying.”
The girls, who knew where we were going but were sworn to secrecy, came into the bedroom to watch me pack, giggling and shushing each other.
My only clue came when we hugged and kissed them goodbye, and Felicity shouted, “Bon voyage!” and Millie elbowed her.
“Don’t ruin it!”
“I didn’t! That’s what you say when someone goes on a trip, even if they’re not going to France!”
On the way to the airport, he finally told me we were flying to Paris, and I flipped out. “Oh my God! Do you have my passport?”
“Of course I do.”
I touched the corners of my eyes and fanned my face. “This is too much. It’s just a birthday.”
“It’s not. It’s a chance for me to do something for you and show you how much I appreciate all you do for me. And it was time for you to get a stamp in that passport already.”
I laughed. “I can’t believe this. Pinch me!”
“I’d be happy to, but you’re not going to wake up.” He took my hand and kissed the back of it. “This is real life.”
It might have been, but not a moment passed that it didn’t seem like a dream. We stayed at a cozy little place on the Left Bank, wandered cobblestone streets hand in hand, drank coffee and ate pastries every morning in a different café, hit all the touristy spots and took a million pictures to send to the kids. We lingered over bottles of wine at dinner every evening, and spent all night long in each other’s arms without worrying about how loud we were, how naked we were, or how many people were sleeping above us. It was heaven.
Then one morning, Mack told me to pack my bags because the last couple nights of the trip would be spent somewhere else. Excited and intrigued, I did what he said. A few hours later, we emerged from a train in Tours and rented a car. As soon as I saw the signs for the Loire, I knew where we were heading.
“Mack.” I grabbed his arm. “No way. You didn’t.”
He just laughed and kept driving, and in less than an hour, I saw it come into view—Le Château d’Ussé, looking every bit as magical as the fairy tale castle I’d imagined as a girl.
I felt like I was walking on a cloud all day long.
We toured the castle and grounds from one end to the other—the dungeons, the salons, the grand halls, the spiral staircases, the stables, the chapel. We learned about the medieval kings and queens who’d walked the stone floors, the Renaissance works of art on the walls, and of course, the inspiration of Perrault’s Sleeping Beauty. We walked to a nearby café for lunch and returned to the château to stroll along gravel paths in the gardens and kiss beneath the shade of cedar trees.
It was while we were in the gardens that Mack turned to me and took my hands. “So? Is it everything you expected?”
I nodded happily. “More. I’m only sorry the kids aren’t here. They’d love this!”
“We’ll bring them back someday. How about that?”
“Do you think we’ll come back?” I asked wistfully, glancing at the château behind us, looking even more beautiful and enchanting in the fading sunlight.
“Of course I do. We’ll want to show them exactly where we were when I asked you to marry me.”
I stared at him. “What?”
He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring. “The box wouldn’t fit in my pocket,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t plan that part very well. Which brings me to my next point.” He took a breath. “I’m no prince, Frannie. I’m stubborn, I’m impatient, I have a foul mouth and a lot of fucking baggage. And I come attached to three small humans who run me ragged every day. But I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
“I love you, too.” I’d started to cry, and he gently brushed tears from beneath my eyes with one thumb before taking my left hand and sliding the ring, a simple diamond solitaire on a delicate platinum band, onto my fourth finger.
“Then I have a question for you.” He got down on one knee, keeping my hand in his. “I can’t promise to build you a castle like this, or take you to Paris every year, or even clean up my mouth. But I can promise to spend every day of my life, and every night, treating you like a fucking queen—I’m sorry.” He looked nervous. “A regular queen. Jesus Christ, I can’t even propose without cursing.”
I laughed, sniffling through my tears. “It’s okay. I know exactly who you are, and I wouldn’t change you for anything.”
“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
I nodded, fresh tears cascading down my cheeks. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
He stood up and we threw our arms around each other, and the ground fell away beneath my feet. “God, I’m so glad that’s done,” he admitted.
“Why? Did you think I’d say no?”
“Not really, I was just afraid I’d fuck it up somehow. Lose the ring, forget what I wanted to say, screw up the directions to get here. There was a lot depending on my ability to get things right, and I don’t always trust myself.”
“Well, you should. You did it perfectly.” My toes touched the ground, but I hardly felt it. “I couldn’t be happier.”
“Good.” He kissed my lips. “Now we should call home, because I told the girls they could stay up until you said yes.”
I squealed. “They knew?”
“Only after we left. I didn’t trust them to keep the secret, so I called them while you were in the shower yesterday and told them it was happening. But they’ve known for a while I wanted to ask. And Millie helped me choose the ring.”
“She did?” I felt choked up all over again.
“Mmhm. Millie and April.”
I sighed. “We’re so lucky to have family like we do.”
“We are. And maybe we can even add to it.”
Leaning back, I looked at him in surprise. “Did I hear that right?”
He shrugged. “I figure I’m not that old. Might be fun to give the girls a little brother.”
“Or sister.”
He paused. “Um … a house with four girls in it?”
Giggling, I kissed his lips. “Five. Don’t forget your wife.”
He sighed. “We’re going to need more space. And I’m going to need a bigger swear jar.”
“Relax, babe. It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”
“We’ve got each other.” He pulled me close again, burying his face in my hair. “And it’s only going to get better.”
