“My romantic history? Though, it’s anything but romantic.”
“Should I?”
“Are you messing with me, Gates? Everyone in the country, Europe, and a small corner of Asia know.” She stood, pacing, the ocean air swirling over the deck. “How long have you been in LA?”
“Eight years.”
“Then you know. Youhaveto. In fact, I think one line of your script is from... you know... the... thing.” She hated talkingabout that video. Wouldn’t it be lovely if one person, this one gorgeous, sweet man, did not know?
“If I did, I’ve forgotten.”
She could not deny the innocence and truth in his blue eyes.
“Let’s just say I’ve not had the best luck choosing men. Add my track record to being labeled the queen of the death scene and...” She dropped back to the sofa. “I feel cursed at times.”
“Cursed?” Jesse slid next to her. “Curses have to have a cause, an agreement. Don’t agree with it, Chloe.” He touched her chin, turning her face to him. “As for love, you are far too kind and sweet to be alone. Yes, love can be painful, I won’t deny it.” There was a weight on his confession. “But it has to be worth trying again.”
“Are you preaching to me or yourself?”
He grinned, releasing her. “We’re not talking about me.”
“But we are, aren’t we?”
“Maybe. A little.”
“If I’m too kind and sweet to be alone, thenyouare too kind and considerate, and yes”—she flicked her hand toward his face—“gorgeous, to be alone. How is it you’re not caught already?”
“It’s not a matter of being caught. It’s a matter of wanting to be caught.”
“You’re lucky. You’re a man. You can choose. Women, even today, have to wait to be chosen. I don’t think anyone will want me.”
“Ah, Chloe, there are plenty of men who’d disagree with you. Men seek but never find. But trust me, there’s a good man out there somewhere, waiting for you.”
“If you say so.” She got up, returned to the railing, needing the wind to cool her heart. Her skirt fluttered in the breeze and she almost felt free of her fear.
Jesse joined her, saying nothing, yet listening.
“Here’s what bothers me,” Chloe began, low, almost to herself. “Marriage is supposed to be this holy and sacred union. At least how I see it. How it was taught to me in parochial school. What I feel in my heart, you know? Yet it’s turned into a billion-dollar industry.Everyone wants the big, flashy wedding with all the hoopla, where the bride is princess for a day. But then when the day-to-day settles in and it’s work and the newness fades, people just walk away.”
“Pretty cynical.”
“Sorry, but it’s what I’ve seen.”
“So what is it about marriage as an institution that intrigues you?” Jesse angled to see her face. “What do you want, Chloe? True love? Happily ever after?”
“Yes, I do. There. I said it.” She slapped her hand on the railing. “I want the fairy tale and the romance, but I also want the day-in-and-day-out. I want to celebrate ten, twenty, fifty years with the man I vowed to love until death parts us. Marriage is the one place where no one can go but you and your spouse. One man. One woman. In a union that has baffled humanity since the beginning. It’s a treasure, something to be guarded with every part of your being. You don’t let a friend or coworker or, God forbid, a lover into that union. What is it the preacher says? ‘What God has joined together, let no one separate.’ That’s amazing! Joined by God!” Her voice rose with each declaration. Jesse appeared amused and intrigued. “The union is personal, intimate. A place of protection, of service, of bearing one another’s burdens.” A rush of tears collected in her eyes. “In marriage, you’re part of a whole, if that makes sense, and that’s what I want. Where the relationship is more than a commitment, it’s a covenant. My parents are committed, no one doubts that—but where’s their covenant? The ceremony and celebration. That’s what I want. It goes beyond love to the very core of being human.” She paced back to the chaise and sat, elbows on her knees. “I sound crazy, I know.”
She was drained. Poured out. Jesse remained at the deck rail, facing the ocean.
“You might have guessed I’ve never confessed any of this out loud before. Please don’t tell me I’ll see my words on the front of a tabloid next week.”
Still nothing from him. What was he thinking? Did her confession kill him? Was it too much? Did he shrivel up and die?
She’d have to report a homicide.
You see, Officer, I simply gave him my thoughts on marriage. Well, he asked! I know... his chest just... imploded. Who knew?
When the silence ticked on too long, she peeked over at him. His eyes were on her.
