Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

Epilogue

WILLOW

The First Week of October the Following Year

Yesterday morning, the morning after this year’s September fashion month, I stepped onto my private jet, thinking I was going home to New York to spend the week with Riley in our new little—okay, maybe not so little—apartment. He’s been busy the past few months between the release of his new album, Willow , paying off his parents’ mortgage and his sister’s student loans, buying his bandmates each a new car, and signing the lease to the new apartment with me.

I’ve been busy, too, planning the launch of Heena’s and my new fashion line. My family also finally went on our two-week-long grand vacation to celebrate my mom being cancer-free (Something she achieved months ago. It just took forever for all of our schedules to align). After that, I organized and threw a huge party to celebrate Maple heading off to college .

I was excited for some long-awaited alone time with Riley. But instead of boarding a jet full of other models headed for New York, I was met with my handsome boyfriend holding a bouquet of flowers, declaring the jet was headed to Palermo, instead.

“Change of plans,” Riley said with a smirk. “I rented a seaside Italian villa for us for the week.”

I was absolutely thrilled. When we arrived to the quaint, bucolic town that afternoon, I thought I was in heaven. Then we rounded the corner, and I was met with a beautiful, sunset orange villa with ivy climbing the exterior and a spotted cat lazing on the porch, and I really thought I was in heaven. We spent last night there, taking an evening stroll around the city before having a huge meal of pasta and wine at a local restaurant.

As I open my eyes this morning, I’m greeted by the bright Italian sun and cool sea breeze. I briefly wonder where I am before I remember yesterday’s surprise and smile. I turn the other way and see the god of a man I’m dating sleeping shirtless beside me. I kiss his cheek before rising and accidentally wake him.

“Sorry to wake you,” I whisper after his eyelids flutter open and his green eyes land on mine.

“Don’t ever apologize for kissing me, Willow Jordan,” he says in his gravelly morning voice, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him. We fall back asleep holding each other for a few hours longer before waking up for good.

“Want to go to the beach?” he asks, brushing his teeth.

“Sure,” I happily oblige, rifling through my bags for a bikini.

After we’re dressed and fed, we grab our towels and make our way down the rocky path to the beach. The air smells gloriously salty, and despite it being October, the temperature has risen to a comfortable lev el while the sun further warms our skin.

When we finally make it down far enough that our feet sink into the sand, there are a few other sunbathers already lounging around.

“Want to see if the other side of the beach, around this cliff, is a bit more private?” Riley asks.

“Sure, lead the way,” I reply.

He holds my hand and leads us around the large rock formation. But my eyes are drawn away from the beach on this side and toward a white dinghy perched on the edge of the surf. Behind it is a large white yacht, inscribed with pink letters reading, The Seashell Princess.

“Riley James Coleman. You did not,” I say, sliding my sunglasses off the bridge of my nose to get a better look.

“Oh, but Willow Elizabeth Jordan. I did,” he says, smiling as wide as I must be.

“It’s ours?” I ask, still in a state of disbelief.

“It’s yours.”

“No, I mean, it’s ours all week?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles, amused by my shock.

“How did you do this?” I squeal as he walks us towards the dinghy waiting to take us to the main ship.

“I know the owner.” Riley smiles. “And I asked her parents if we could arrange to have the boat this week.”

“Wow.” I beam as he helps me into the small boat. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Riley. This is incredible.”

Riley joins me in the dinghy, still smiling broadly. “I’m glad you like it. We’re set to take a leisurely trip to the Aeolian Islands and back this week…does that sound good?”

“That sounds great ,” I exclaim as the dinghy’s captain begins to motor us toward the yacht .

Riley just smiles, clearly very pleased with himself that he was able to pull this off.

“This must be the last surprise, right?” I ask curiously. I thought his showing up in Europe to begin with was the grand surprise.

“Yes.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.” I laugh. “You keep blinking. You’re definitely lying.”

He smiles. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see if I am.”

We climb the ladder and board the ship, which is just as large and beautiful as I remember it. I stand by the railing and close my eyes, letting my head fall back. I bask in the sun and drink in the briny sea breeze.

I feel a familiar hand snake around my waist. “I’m so happy you like it,” Riley whispers in my ear, kissing my neck gently.

“Like it?” I ask, turning to face him. “Riley, this is by far the most thoughtful, romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t believe you remembered this ship. The only time I ever mentioned it was that first weekend at your house, right?”

“I have a good memory when it comes to you.”

“Good luck topping this, Riley.”

“Topping it?”

“Yeah. You have to keep raising the bar to keep the romance alive, you know,” I tease, expecting him to grumble that this is the best he’s got.

“Happily,” he says instead, the loving look in his eyes telling me he truly means it. He will continue to surprise and romance me for as long as he can.

I hear the engines crank beneath us, and slowly, the ship turns and sets off into the Mediterranean .

“Want to lay in the sun?” I ask him.

“Sure,” he responds, following me to the chaise lounges spread out on the bow deck.

We lay there for hours, reading, talking, napping, and reveling in each other’s company before a deckhand comes and apologizes for disturbing us. He announces that a small sunset dinner is ready to be served if we’d like to follow him. We do as he asks and make our way to the stern deck of the boat, where a little above-deck dining area resides.

I gasp when we round the corner, not at all expecting the elaborate display before me. Hundreds of red and pink roses are arranged around the space, the sight enough to make my heart skip a beat. The table is draped in a long white tablecloth, and a bottle of champagne sits in a crystal bottle chiller in the center. I turn to face Riley, tears welling up in my eyes, but before I can say anything, my eyes fall to his right hand, which is holding a small black velvet box.

Holy shit.

Riley moves to hold my hand with his free hand.

“Willow,” he begins as the first tear falls down my face. “I hope that’s not because you don’t want what’s coming,” he jokes.

I shake my head, laughing, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

“I’ve been yours since the very first time I laid eyes on you on New Year's. And every day since then…every conversation, every glance, every laugh…I’ve fallen deeper and deeper. I knew I was in love with you the moment you stepped through those hotel doors in South Carolina and ran into my arms. But the feeling I had then…it doesn’t even compare to what I feel now. I’ve fallen deeper in love with you than I ever thought possible, and I don’t see an end in sight. There’s no limit to how deep I’ve fallen, or for how deep I know I will continue to fall for you.”

He drops to one knee and opens the ring box to reveal the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. A huge, sparkling marquise-shaped diamond sits atop a twisted golden band, accented with several smaller, similarly shaped diamonds on either side, creating a whimsical design reminiscent of leaves on a vine.

“All this to say…you’re the love of my life, and I can’t imagine a future without you by my side. Willow Elizabeth Jordan, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I squeak out, nodding emphatically. “Yes, yes, yes,” I repeat, bending down to kiss him deeply.

“Thank God,” he murmurs into my mouth. “My heart’s been resting at one hundred and sixty beats per minute ever since you met me on that plane yesterday.”

“Aw, you were nervous?” I tease.

In response, he slides the ring onto my finger. “I was.”

I gasp, admiring the way the ring sparkles, turning my hand to see it from all angles. “Riley, it’s gorgeous.”

“You really like it? I can get you another one if you don’t. Heena and Aspen helped me pick it out, but still, you’re hard to buy for.”

“I love it, Riley. And I love it even more because you chose it for me.”

His face melts in relief, and he pulls me in for another kiss. “Good,” he says.

I grab the bottle of champagne off the table and lift it up. “So, are we celebrating or what? Surely that was the last surprise, right?”

“That was the last one,” he chuckles. “For now.”

I pop the cork and squeal as the foam bubbles pour out over the top of the bottle, dripping onto my bare feet. Riley holds out two glasses, and I f ill them before setting the bottle back in its chiller.

“To the rest of our lives,” I say, taking a glass from him and clinking it against his.

“With the greatest woman on Earth, who said yes,” he cheers.

“And the greatest man on Earth, who finally asked,” I answer.