The ring is breathtaking. A solitaire diamond on platinum, and I watch, speechless, as it sparkles in the morning light as if it holds all the promises.
Somehow, I find my voice. “Where—how did you get this?” I ask, fresh tears pouring down my face, and my hand covering my mouth.
He takes my hand and slides the ring on my finger slowly. The metal is cool, and it’s the perfect size. “When I got back from the hospital this morning, I went out with Emma to get it," he says.
“I wasn’t sure which style you would like, so I needed her help. She told me you’d love this design, but if you don’t, no worries, we'll go together to pick something else.”
“Something else?’ I cry. “How can anything be more beautiful than this?”
He smiles with satisfaction at my reaction. "I want to get to know everything about you, Juliet. Everything. What you like, dislike, hate, love, every single thing."
I lunge for him then, and he catches me in his arms. I kiss him deeply, my hands on his face, holding him to me with all of my heart. "It's the most perfect ring ever," I whisper against his lips, pausing to look at him as emotion swells. "I love you with all of my heart."
"And I love you with all of mine," he says, echoing the same for me. His arms go around me again, holding tight, and I know for a fact now that he will never let go.
Epilogue
JULIET
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_zHQ6kFuQ0
-The Power of Love-
The villa in Tulum wraps around us like a warm embrace, its white stucco walls and open terraces overlooking the Caribbean Sea. Down below lies the Dreams Tulum Resort & Spa's private beach, cleared just for our small group, with white sands raked smooth and dotted with seashells that glint under the late afternoon sun.
Blake and I are about to get married. I didn't want anything huge—just something intimate with Emma and the family—because after all the chaos and mess, this is our secret. The waves lap gently at the shore below, their rhythm matching my heartbeat as I stand by the window, where the sheer curtains billow in the breeze and carry the scent of frangipani from the gardens.
I gaze out at the skies, my hand resting on the windowsill, its wood smooth and warmed by the sun. The sunset is coming slowly, the sky already shifting to golden hues with streaks of orange, creating that perfect time when the light turns everything magical, but clouds hover faintly on the horizon—puffy and gray—making my stomach flutter with nerves.
What if it rains and spoils this moment I've dreamed of?
"I hope it doesn't rain," I say softly to Emma, turning away from the window. The tile is cool under my bare feet. I return to the chair where she has been helping me do my makeup. The vanity is cluttered with palettes and a vase of fresh orchids plucked from the resort's garden. Her brush dabs lightly on my cheeks. Her own face is focused, hair tied back in a loose bun, while the suite's air conditioner hums low to keep the humidity at bay.
She pauses with the brush hovering and looks up with a smile, her eyes warm in the mirror's reflection. "The ceremony will be brief—don't worry," she says reassuringly. "We can go inside later on if it does—the villa has that covered terrace with the ocean view."
She starts working on my hair next, her fingers gentle as she weaves in a few loose waves with sea-salt spray, adding that beachy texture that feels right for Tulum. The strands turn curly and whimsical under her touch, and I feel that tension ease a little. I’m so grateful as always to her for being here, and for being my rock through it all.
Once she’s done, I rise and turn to the full-length mirror by the wardrobe. I take in the dress's flow and gorgeous lines in the reflection. It was a vintage find we'd come across a few months ago in Tribeca. It’s a simple A-line in ivory lace from the 1950s, fitted at the bodice with a sweetheart neckline that hugs my curves just right and flaring out to the floor in layers that whisper when I move. The fabric feels unbelievable against myskin, light and airy in the tropical heat. Now it takes my breath away as I twirl slowly, the hem brushing my ankles.
"Does any of this feel real to you?" I ask Emma as our eyes meet in the mirror. My emotions are confused—joy, disbelief, my full heart feeling like it might overflow.
She shakes her head, tears in her own eyes now, stepping close to adjust the neckline with gentle hands on the lace. "No, it doesn't—I still can't believe it," she says, her voice thick as she pauses. "But I'm so happy for you, Jules. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person."
We hug hard then, her arms squeezing tightly around me with that familiar warmth. I try not to cry. I don’t want to ruin all her hard work. I pull back with a laugh and blink fast.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she warns.
The moment lingers sweetly, and then we look outside the window together. We take in the breathtaking view—the cleared beach, white sands stretching to the ocean's edge, where waves roll in gently and foam white. The arch stands ready, adorned with fresh hibiscus and orchids in vibrant pinks. The minister in a white linen shirt stands under it, talking to someone.
Freya, my flower girl, is wearing a simple white sundress with a pink sash. She skips around Frances, who's seated in a wicker chair, and wearing a sun hat. The shawl I gave her as a present is draped lightly over her shoulders.
Blake is already there with a few of his friends. They are all wearing tuxedos, but it is him I can’t take my eyes off. He’s looking even handsome than ever with his dark hair ruffled by the breeze. That strong jaw is relaxed, and his gray eyes keep scanning the villa like he's waiting for me.
I honestly can't believe how lucky I am. Even after I’ve pinched myself, I have a hard time believing that this is not a dream. My heart swells as I pause to watch him scoop Freya up, her laughter carrying faintly on the wind.
"He's so gorgeous, Emma," I whisper softly, emotion thick in my voice, "and he’s the kindest human being I've ever met."
She nods. "You two are perfect for each other."
