Page 83 of She's the Star

She has looked out the front window of our London rental half a dozen times in the last thirty minutes. She’s obviously waiting for something. “Are you expecting a delivery?”

“What? No!” She laughs awkwardly.

I finish tying my shoes and rise to my feet. Whatever she has planned is impossible for me to guess. “Should I wait to leave until Mina gets back?”

“No. Go. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Sweetheart.” I step closer to her and Maddy. “What did you do?”

Her lips twitch before flattening. “Do you trust me?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“Then I need you go on your run. Don’t shorten it either. The full thirty minutes,” she says as she ushers me to the front door. “When you come back, you’ll see that everything is as it should be.”

Clutching the handle, but not opening the door, I turn toward her. “You’ll explain then?”

“I’m not sure I’ll need to, but if I do, then yes.” She smiles widely and kisses me.

Maddy smacks her lips together, so I kiss her too, and then exit the townhouse.

I start slow and then pick up the pace. It’s torture to stay away for thirty minutes and I consider running in a loop around the block so I can repeatedly pass the house, but I manage to convince myself not to. I don’t want to ruin whatever she’s planned.

She likes to surprise me. Secret dates. Quiet moments in whatever city we’re in. We even spent a full week during the break between the domestic and international legs of the tour at a luxurious cabin in Utah. It was just us and Maddy. We unplugged and relaxed and didn’t spend a single second worrying about the outside world.

When thirty minutes have passed, I jog down the street and note that the townhouse doesn’t appear different. There are no cars out front ready to whisk us away on a mystery date. Nor are there any delivery trucks. I fly up the stairs and pull open the front door.

No one greets me.

The house is old and large, but the rooms are tiny. I peek through doorways as I move further into the house, but everything is silent. I start up the stairs and then pause.

The back garden.

I dart back down the stairs and peek through the high window in the door that leads outside. Directly in my line of sight is a tiny wrought iron table that has been moved to the center of the patio. A rectangular box with a very familiar cookie logo sits on the table.

I slip out of the house into the vibrant garden. Greenery abounds and fall flowers bloom.

No one is lurking amongst the plants. The two matching chairs are empty. I step closer to the table and use my finger to slide the lid open.

“Stop,” Amber shouts. I practically jump out of my skin and then spin to find her leaning over the second-floor balcony. “You were supposed to take a shower and then come and find me.”

“Was I?” That was not the direction I received.

She covers her eyes with her hand and shakes her head. “I’ll have to improvise.” Her hand falls away and her gaze pins me in place. “Do not open that box.”

I hold my hands up and step away from it.

She laughs and disappears. A moment later she steps into the garden. “I had this whole plan, but I totally botched it when you left.”

“Plan for what?”

She presses her lips together and tears well in her eyes.

I cup her face in my hands and swipe the tears away with my thumbs. “It’s okay. I’ll go take a shower, and then we can follow your plan.”

“It’s too late. I’m going to have to ask you to marry me while you’re in your running shorts.”

My eyes widen when her words register. “You want to get married?”

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