She meandered through the gardens where ruby red, sky blue, and sun yellow petals were in bloom. Spring had coasted into Giverny, bringing along a blanket of new colors. The lily pond waters were blue and glassy, reflecting the last bit of midday sun before the gray clouds at the edge of the sky blocked it. Soon she spotted Jack on the bridge, one arm resting on the railing, the other in his pocket.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, and dropped a quick kiss on his lips. She’d never grown tired of kissing him. She never would.
“Thank you for meeting me here. I’m a lucky man to be able to play hooky with you. Do you want to walk around the gardens?”
“I would love to.”
“Oh wait,” he said, smacking his forehead. “There’s something I meant to ask you.”
She cocked her head to the side. “What is it?”
He dropped down to one knee, and her mouth fell open. His eyes met hers, blazing with love and passion.
“Michelle, it only seems fitting to ask you this here, since this is your favorite place in Paris that’s not in Paris, and it’s my favorite place, too. Because it’s the place where I was finally able to tell you over and over how much I love you. And ever since that day I haven’t been able to stop saying it. Because I feel it everywhere. In every part of me.”
Her hand flew to her heart. A tear of joy slid down to her cheek as he reached into his pocket and removed a small black box. “I do too,” she whispered.
“I’ve always asked you to give yourself to me. And you have. Before I even deserved it. And I hope to keep deserving it, every day for the rest of our lives. And I want to ask you if you can give me one more thing. You. Always. Will you be my wife?”
She dropped down to both knees and threw her arms around him, joy flowing through her bloodstream. “Yes. I’m yours. Always.”
“Always is a very long time, and it’s exactly how long I want you,” he said, then slid a beautiful diamond onto her finger, and kissed her endlessly on the bridge. He didn’t even stop when it started to rain.
Yes, come to think of it, there wasn’t a single thing wrong with Paris, or France. Not even the rain. The rain was wonderful too.
THE END