It was early on our last day when Brandon and I drove to Carcassonne. Cory had left early yesterday morning, giving us a final twenty-four hours together before we headed back to chaos. Instead of leaving from Marseille, we decided to lock up the villa early and fly out of the old medieval city perched on a hill above Provence, with a few hours to sightsee before our flight.
We parked the rental car at the base of the hill and meandered down one of the side streets in search of a boulangerie where we could get a quick breakfast that we could walk around with. We walked up the road that wound around the base of the old city. The old part of Carcassonne was an almost perfectly preserved medieval city, a cluster of turrets, towers, and medieval-themed shops all encircled by a massive stone wall.
We arrived just as the shops and inns were starting to open and meandered around the city for well over an hour, poking our heads into some of the older buildings and exploring the multiple courtyards and towers of the maze-like complex. As I watched Brandon inspect the execution block, I imagined him in a blaze of armor, gleaming silver in the sunlight. He really would have been the perfect knight.
When he caught me watching, his smile was blinding. His hair, wavy and bright, caught on the wind. Two weeks in the French sun had bleached his mop of normally dark blond a vivid gold. Comfortable and relaxed, he looked the exact opposite of the stolid attorney I had first met last January.
We picked up another few coffees and croissants before walking to the outer wall of the city to take in the view over the rest of Carcassonne.
"I have to tell you something," Brandon said as he leaned over the stone edge.
I turned to look at him. Behind him stood towers bearing bright blue flags from their conical roofs. I had no problem seeing Brandon, with his strong, tall back and sharp-lined face, as a feudal lord. He looked like a modern-day King Arthur, presiding over the streets of Camelot. It fit.
"You're going to run," I said.
He'd had that pensive look on his face all morning. Cory had left with a final admonishment to "make a fuckin' decision." Brandon couldn't put it off any longer.
The wind turned up Brandon's hair, ruffling it lightly. He rubbed a hand over his chin, which currently had about four days' worth of growth on it. I knew it would disappear before Monday, and I was sorry for it. I was enjoying the Viking-look on him, particularly when he looked at me with a clear intent to pillage.
"I am going to run," he said out loud as he looked over the stucco houses below, and beyond them to the vineyards and sunflower fields in the distance. "But only if you're on board. I can't do this without you. I don't want to do it without you."
I gazed out at the view with him. We didn't touch while he waited for me to process his words. But I'd had enough time to process over the last few weeks. The sunlight gleamed on the silver bracelet he'd given me, and I considered the words on the inside. We were beyond the point of pulling away. A man like Brandon Sterling wasn't made to stay behind closed doors, and I didn't want him to. It was time to get over my fears and step out with him.
"If this is what you want," I said, "then I'm with you."
Brandon gave me a cautious smile. "Really?"
I took his palm between my hands. "All in, right? Isn't that what we're doing here?"
The smile turned up to about a thousand watts.
"All in," Brandon repeated. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Mark's going to be pissed, that's for sure. So will the board of Ventures. They've all been trying to convince me not to do it." He grimaced. "I'm going to have to divest from both Ventures and Sterling Grove. I'll be able to give Miranda whatever she wants, but more importantly, I'll be free of any conflicts of interest."
I didn't miss the slight thrill in the word "free." In the last two weeks, I had started to wonder just how attached Brandon really was to his companies these days. Whenever his phone rang, as it did multiple times an hour, he almost always scowled. When I'd met him, he'd said he enjoyed his job, but the longer I knew him, the more it seemed like he wanted something different. Apparently, it was this, the mayor's mansion.
Something sunk in my heart, but I did my best to stay bright. It didn't matter whether or not I wanted him to do this. If this was his dream, then I wasn't going to stand in his way. If this was his dream, I just wanted to support him.
Brandon wrapped his fingers around mine and squeezed.
"So, if that weren't enough, I have a favor to ask you," he said.
My stomach clenched even more. That couldn't preface anything good.
"There's another event on Sunday after we get back."
I pulled my hand away, already shaking my head. "No, no, no."
"It's not going to be like last time. For starters, I'll actually show up on time." He flashed a sheepish grin, and I couldn't help but smile back.
"Brandon, I just don't think...Cory has a point. It's best if I stay out of sight until everything is settled with Miranda."
The thought of having to go back to being together incognito made me feel sick to my stomach, but it was better than the other option of inflaming Miranda to the point where she'd want to plaster our affair all over the tabloids. I could deal with a few more months of secrecy if it meant I'd get to be with Brandon in peace in the end.
But Brandon shook his head adamantly. "I'm going to announce my candidacy on Sunday," he said plainly. His eyes were wide and blue as he spoke, searching my face for a reaction. "Please, Red," he said. "I need you there."
We watched each other, letting the sound of the wind sweeping up the hillside and through the tunnels of the old city fill the space between us. A few strands of my hair escaped the braid on my shoulder, and Brandon reached out to gently push them behind my ear. We were locked in a trance, my green eyes lost in his blue pools, the earnest lines of his face tense as he waited.
I took a bite of my croissant to buy more time. I really wasn't ready for this, but it was here. I could stay with him and deal with the fallout of the attention, or I could be left behind.
I already knew which choice I would make. But before I could relent, Brandon spoke again.
"Will you marry me, Red?"
The question floated on the wind, so low I almost thought I'd imagined it. It wasn't until I caught his gaze, shyly and carefully watching for my reaction, that I realized it was real.
I immediately choked on my croissant and started to cough.
"Jesus!" Brandon moved quickly to pound me on the back.
The tiny piece of pastry flew over the edge of the castle wall and into the dry grass piled below. I grabbed the edge to regain my balance, heaving breaths. In, out, in, out. It wasn't until I felt like I wasn't going to collapse that I looked back at Brandon.
"Are you okay?" he asked warily.
"Did you," I heaved another breath between my words, "just ask me...to marry...you?"
Brandon quirked his mouth in a shy half-smile. "Yes...?"
My jaw dropped, and I blinked. "You asked me to marry you. Like you were...asking for a Coke. Or if we should go get brunch."
Brandon bit his lip, the amusement in his expression quickly giving way more to fear.
"Well, I can do it again if you like," he said. "I could probably manage to kneel. Maybe rustle up some flowers. One of these vendors has to have something."
I couldn't tell if it was a joke.
"Seriously, though." He rushed in to stand closer, taking my hand in his and thumbing over my knuckles. His tall form blocked out the sun. His earnest face was all I could see. "Will you? Would you? Marry me, I mean."
All of the blood must have completely drained from my face, because his hand dropped to my waist, and he steered me to the nearest bench.
"Skylar, are you okay?" he asked me again as I sat down next to him. "Do you need to put your head between your legs or something?"
I took another deep breath, then exhaled slowly. I did it again. And again. Finally, when things seemed to be running normally again, I was able to look at Brandon. He still hadn't let go of my hand, and gripped it even tighter.
"This is..." I started, "really...unexpected." I tugged at my hand, and had to pull it away a bit more violently to get it free.
"So I guess that's a no, then," Brandon said dryly, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
"Don't do that," I said quietly. "Please. This is a lot, you have to admit. On top of everything else."
"Do I?" he asked petulantly.
I bristled. "Yes. You do!" I took a deep breath. I didn't want to lose my temper, but it was incredibly frustrating that he couldn't seem to see what he was piling on me. "Brandon," I tried again. "Please listen."
As if unable to bear the short distance between us, he pulled me onto his lap, securing me against his chest while he played with my left hand, weaving his large fingers in between mine.
"I didn't plan it," he said as he toyed with my bare ring finger. His blue eyes blazed, more vibrant than the sky. "This moment. These last two weeks," he continued. "Skylar, it's been perfect, hasn't it?"
I softened. "Of course it has. It's been a dream. But Brandon––"
"I just want that to continue," he said, staring down at my fingers like they might combust in his hands. Like everything around us might evaporate.
When he looked at me again, his eyes were almost pained with naked yearning.
"I love you so fucking much, Skylar," he said. "You have no idea how much this time has meant to me. To wake up in the mornings with you in my arms. To know that even when I'm stuck on a conference call, I can hold you in my lap."
"Brandon, I'm not a lap dog," I said. "Even if we get married, I'm not going to follow you around like a puppy. I'm starting my own career in literally three days." I stroked his cheek, reveling in the feel of his soft hair.
His blue eyes cast downward. "I know. And I want you to have that, Red. I want you to pursue whatever dreams you want." He looked at me again, eyes full of love. "I just want to be there with you. I want to be your center, where you come back to. Because you're mine, babe."
I frowned and shook my head. "I'm not yours. I don't belong to you, like all your fancy things. I'm a person, Brandon, not something to collect."
Brandon chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, then pressed his forehead to mine, so that we shared the same breath.
"You're right," he said finally. "I had it the wrong way around. You're not mine. I'm yours. I belong to you. You're like the sun to me, Skylar. I can't see without you."
All my reserve broke at his words, and I wished more than anything we were not sitting on a very public bench, surrounded by groups of tourists. I kissed him tenderly on the mouth. His hand slipped around my head as he held me there, reveling in my lips in the soft morning light. When he let me go, he smiled, but his smile dropped when he caught the look on my face. He must have seen the words I was going to say next.
"If I'm the sun," I said carefully, "and you're mine––because you are, Brandon, you really are––then I'm not going anywhere. And that's the truth. I promise."
I cupped his face and nuzzled my nose against his, delighting in the unique scent of him. The strong, lean arm around my waist tightened, but Brandon sighed.
"So that's a 'no'," he murmured. He said it lightly, but couldn't quite mask the regret.
"That's a 'not right now'," I corrected him gently with another kiss, as sweet as I could muster.
He caught my lower lip between his teeth, and pulled me in for something much more potent that took my breath away. When he released me, his eyes were bright blue fire.
"I'm going to hold you to that, Red," he said. His tone joked, but his face said otherwise. My stomach tightened in response, but with fear or anticipation, I couldn't tell.
"Okay," I said. "Okay."
~