Page 104 of The Damsel and Her Villian
“Are you ever going to get married?” she eventually jabbed back. It was only fair.
I felt about weddings the way she felt about children. It was a passable event. Why go through the trouble and cost of a wedding when there was so much to be done right here?
Even though I wasn’t particularly fond of weddings, Gray presented a unique perspective on marriage. It wasn’t how I expected him to broach the subject, but one evening, as we sat on the porch, he asked if he could take my last name. It wasn’t a proposal in the conventional sense, at least not in the way most people would think. My initial reaction was surprise, but then his reasoning became clear. He didn’t want to hold on to his last name, a name so tarnished and ruined, so full of pain. His words brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t say no to that.
So yeah, sure, we got married, though we weren’t advertising it. We didn’t have rings or anything fancy; we just had each other. It was private and quick, in, out, and finished. Besides, calling it a“marriage” diminished what we had. It’s so much more than that. Our connection existed without a label, unbound by restrictions or rules, like two missing puzzle pieces that finally found their place.
If Sybil knew we’d technically been married behind her back, she’d never let me live it down, especially after how much I emphasized her need for a wedding. But that was different. For her, the event was a significant social step on her healing journey.
We were the Beaumonts now, and I loved it.
Gray approached, his gaze fixed on me and my lemonade as if nothing else existed. He paused directly in front of me, never breaking eye contact. Leaning down, he kissed me, his hand gently caressing my belly. As he pulled away, I found he’d stolen the frosty drink from my hand. Tilting his head back, he finished the last bit before placing the cool glass against his forehead.
“I’m about to go jump in the river. It’s so hot today,” he breathed.
Sybil rose from her chair.“Here, you take my spot, Gray. I’m going to bring Nash some lemonade and get some more for the workers from the truck.”
She patted Gray on the shoulder, her expression full of regret as she felt the dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt. I grinned, watching her walk away, her blonde hair dancing in the breeze.
“Mr. Beaumont,” I said with a wink in greeting.
He reached out a hand, looking for mine.
I placed a hand in his, and he yanked me to my feet, enveloping me in his sweaty arms. I didn’t mind.He rocked us as he pressed the cool glass to the center of my back. It felt good.
“I love you, Betty,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” I whispered back.
A grunt of contentment passed his lips when I repeated his words.“This is really enough for you?” he asked, as he often did.
“It’s everything,” I replied, as I always did.
I was happy here. Life was full.
David would call sometimes just to keep in touch, but otherwise, he’d disappeared into the New York scene. While Ethan still intended to shut the whole operation down, he was giving David an opportunity to prove himself and make it legitimate. With Matteo out of the picture, most of the illegal activities had ceased, and David’s presence in New York had actually become a beneficial one.
David has also kept in touch with my dad, maybe even more than Gray. My dad, though secretive about it, might even live a double life now, just like we had. He seems oddly happy and energized, busier than ever with things he won’t readily divulge. Something is definitely going on with those two. Perhaps they’ve started stealing lost art like Nash and I did—who knows? All I know for sure is that a lot of art has been found lately, and it wasn’t Nash or me responsible.
After Sybil’s bold PERL performance at the MET, her clandestine art career surged in popularity, even in her absence. Though she’d stay here with me, I admit we had a few more daring“drop-ins” on the books for the next year. It was simply too enjoyable to resist repeating, and it served as the ideal method to keep Sybil focused on her goal of recovery and avoid a backslide.
Ultimately, life has a peculiar way of derailing even the most meticulously crafted plans. Sometimes, it catches you off guard, leading you down paths you never imagined. Embracing these shifts makes life worth the journey, and I’m grateful I allowed it to happen. While this might not be the city life I envisioned, it’s the one I truly desired.
I’ll take the untamed freedom of the forest any day, because that’s where true luxury is found.
