Well, I'm not exactly sure if anyone's reading this :), but I figured I'd just write more.
I hope you will like it, and leave a review!
Laterz, w.
January 25, bathroom, Switzerland, 10 am
In the bathroom. Go figure.
When I suggested to Michael that we just go ahead and get married, he at first just stared at me, completely baffled, actually looking like he thought I wasn't kidding. I mean, for a second, I truly thought he'd agree. That was before he burst out laughing.
"You shouldn't joke about our wedding, Mia," he told me.
"Why would I be joking?" now I was the one baffled. It was as if I got sober in an instant. I totally wasn't happy anymore. At all.
"Oh, come on, Mia, we talked about this yesterday. We decided we can wait a few years."
Michael is totally playing too many video games. His emotions seem to be changing faster than he's advancing at whatever 'kill you enemy' game he's playing right now. He actually looked angry.
"Yeah, and we will. With the whole royal wedding thing," I didn't know how to make it clearer.
"Okay, you have completely lost me, Mia. What are talking about? How you been drinking?"
"You're accusing me of being drunk? Just because for a change I am not causing a problem, but solving it?"
Honestly, it hurt to be accused of being drunk while proposing marriage. Especially given how he practically asked ME to marry HIM just yesterday.
And, okay, I know we survived a potential bear attack since then, both honestly nothing that happened was traumatic enough to make him doubt me. I mean, yes, I freaked out. Hello, I ALWAYS freak out. It's my trademark.
Besides, we didn't even SEE a bear. I could SENSE it nearby. That's a difference. It's like I can SENSE that the next Grey's Anatomy will be kind of mediocre, but I can't actually SEE it. Yet, anyway. Maybe I can convince Michael to turn into a hacker for an evening.
"You are seriously suggesting we get married?" he crossed his arms on his chest.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
There was an unopened champagne bottle by the futon. We didn't get to open it last night, as our way from the shower to the bed didn't exactly lead near it. And he fell asleep afterward. But now I was kind of glad that he had, though. Because I totally wanted to take the bottle and hit him on the head with it.
Don't blame me. People are scientifically proven to be more aggressive after a drink or two. Or six of them.
"Why I wanna marry you? I don't know, because I love you? And because you love me? And because you just said yesterday we need to talk about our future? Well, I am talking about our future. Let's get married."
"Mia, I told you, I would marry you in an instant. But I am just not ready to have the cameras pointing at my face as I promise to love you forever."
I swear, sometimes I just can't believe he, of all people, invented CardioArm. And honestly, I sort of like those moments. They make me feel, well, intellectual.
"We don't have to get married in front of cameras, Michael, that is what I am telling you! We can have TWO weddings. One for us, and one for the world. And my grandmother."
"I have to ask, Mia, where did you even get this idea from?"
"Because we love each other. And when you truly love each other, like we do, you shouldn't listen to what people, and money, and conventionality say. You should just do what you love, I mean, just focus on the one you love. And if we want to get married, that's more important than anything else."
It sounded so much better coming out of Edward's mouth.
Which is probably why Michael wasn't won over immediately, like I had been.
"While I agree with the whole not being part of the herd thing, Mia, you have to consider that there are exceptions to every rule. And one of these exceptions are people like you. Royals. It's tradition to get married in a big, extravagant way, something I thought we agreed we weren't doing at this time."
"No!" I felt like I was speaking Chinese. "Look, we get married now, just for us, without telling the world, and then you are gonna propose in some beautiful place, and we will play the role of two people getting married. It's not rocket science."
Though, actually, I think if it were rocket science, he would understand it better.
"Basically you are suggesting we just lie to the whole world?"
"Michael, we lie all the time!" I exclaimed. "Like in interviews, when I say I am looking forward to the next tourist season, or how much I enjoy changing Genovia's health policies, or how happy I am that I get to have a party for 500 people, on a boat, for my birthday! You really think I wouldn't rather just be with you in our apartment? Oh, and what about My Man Can, huh? That's just such a lie! I look nowhere near as good away from the cameras I do in front of it!"
He totally should know that. Because he experienced the whole TV Cameras Beauty himself that time he hired the Tanked crew to come to Pavlov Surgical headquarters and build an aquarium in a shape of the heart. I know he had a zit on his chin that week, but it was nowhere to be seen on TV!
And I say this with guarantee, as I can check, because I have that episode taped! On an old VHS cassette, because the week it was shown I was in Indiana visiting Mamaw and Papaw (and Hank, as he discovered modelling industry is not all it's cracked up to be, so he chose to use his fame to promote heathy lifestyle, and lots of inspiration for his now kaput TV show Healthy Hank came from his humble life in Indiana (he is currently the organizer of Versailles Corn Princess Contest)), and they didn't have any recording device more advanced than video tape recorder.
"Don't you think this is a bit disrespectful to the people who look up to you?"
"Oh, and people going through our trash aren't being disrespectful?"
They totally do. Though it is not as bad as it used to be. After Michael and I bought he apartment in downtown Genovia (actually, Genovia is so small that pretty much all of it is downtown, but whatever), some reporters were CAMPING by our dumpster, so that they could pay the garbage collectors not to take our trash. And then they opened the bags and looked inside, RIGHT THERE UNDER THE WINDOW. And then the sales of certain tampons spiked, 'because Princess Mia was using them'.
Well, at least it killed rumors of me being pregnant for a few weeks.
Oh, and have I mentioned? The reporters started a special Instagram account, on which they shared tidbits from under Princess Mia's window. Luckily after a few days they didn't have much to report, as Michael and I started taking our trash elsewhere.
"That has nothing to do with it," Michael insisted.
"It has EVERYTHING to do with it! Our trash is private! Just like we are private! We have a right for a life outside the spotlight. We have a right to get marry wherever, whenever and however we want. Yes, they are expectations, so we will just live up to that and give people that perfect wedding! Just because our visions of that perfection don't match, it doesn't mean we should not get our wedding as well!"
He was trying to put the 'no' face on, but I could see he was liking the idea.
"And where do you suggest is this wedding to take place?"
"Here. Now. Or maybe two days for now, just to get things ready"
"What about the officiant?" Michael said. "If we want to get married, we need a license, and to get a license, we have to use our real names. People will find out about that."
"Michael, Lars is totally in charge of these things," I said. "He can make the documents disappear or something."
"So we, hypothetically, tell Lars."
"And René can perform the ceremony."
"And Sebastiano will design a wedding dress," Michael laughed.
"See? We can totally do it, Michael."
"What about my parents? Lilly? Your mom? Clarisse? We can't just get them all the way here in a day."
"Well, then we don't," I shrugged. "And before you say it's not fair, I didn't go to my mom's wedding, and neither did you to your parents'."
My mom got married in Mexico, as she didn't want a big, over-the-top wedding she was to get as a mother of Genovian princess. And Michael didn't because they got married before he was born, but I still found it to be a handy argument.
"The thing with your mom was different."
"I think not attending doesn't really have many interpretations, Michael."
"And you think if I don't tell my parents and you don't tell yours, then it doesn't matter that I will get married without my family present?"
"I thought we agreed the main thing we want about our wedding is just you and me, and no cameras?"
I know we could totally get married on a post-it, like Derek and Meredith did in Grey's anatomy, but every time I rewatch that episode, Michael tells me he still wants a ceremony for his wedding.
"But we invite all of your cousins?"
"They're not my cousins, Michael, they are our family. And we wouldn't invite them we would use them for our advantage."
He didn't have a response to that, and I could see that he was really considering my words. I sat closer to him, putting my feet into his lap.
Because I totally deserved a foot massage for my incredible smarts.
"But what are we going to do if people find out?" he worried.
"We will cross that bridge when we get there," I gently said. "But whatever happens, if we get married here, then it's a moment nobody can ever take away from us. Besides, if you invent that prosthetics thing, then people are gonna love you whether or not you eloped with the world's favorite princess."
That made him smile.
"I have to say, though, that there is one aspect of this hurried wedding I do not like."
"What's that?" I asked.
"I don't have the ring to propose."
I can't explain what those words did to my heart.
"Well," I said, "we do have champagne and a bed. So I might just let you off the hook if you improvise."
I smiled, and as I moved my feet of his lap, he got up, kneeling down on one knee in front of me. It made me feel so much more high than all that mix of cocktails.
"Well, then," he whispered, taking my hand. "Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, I will be honest with you. I cannot tell you how my heart stopped when I first saw you, because, frankly, I don't remember the day we met. I don't even know when that happened for the first time, but I can tell you and promise you, that it will never stop. Every time I look at you, I am astound by your grace, your beauty, and every time you return the look, I still can't believe you are actually mine. I will not say that you are my sole reason for existing, but you make my existence so much more meaningful just with your presence. Just as I think I couldn't possibly be any happier, you smile, and I uncover a whole new level of bliss. And you keep borrowing my credit cards to make the world a better place for everyone, people and animals, we have people going through our trash, your cousin keeps bursting in on us in exchange for donuts, and your grandmother keeps bringing me sheep cheese from Sweden … pretty much every other minute of my life with you drives me crazy, but I love it so much I wouldn't trade it for anything. Every moment with you is an adventure, and I don't want to miss a single one. Therefore, I am asking you, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"
I think it goes without saying that I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't even say yes. All I wanted to do was … cry. And so I did, because I cry for pretty much everything, even every time a cat from Genovian Cat Shelter finds a new home. Which happens to like a dozen cats every day.
I threw my arms around him, pulling him closer. I buried my face in his neck – he still smells fantastic - and just took in the moment (yes, I also sniffed him, like Rommel sniffs pregnant sheep).
"Is that a yes?" he whispered.
"It's such a big yes that I am relieved to have every day for the rest of my life to say it," I smiled and gently kissed his lips. "Did you rehearse that speech?"
"A few times," he admitted, kissing me again. This time, though more passionately. And as much as I wanted to focus on that, I couldn't, because my not waterproof mascara got all smudged from my tears and started irritating my eyes.
Well, irritating. It burned like hell.
So I pushed him away, saying I'd be right back. And I ran into the bathroom where I got rid of the makeup. And wrote this all down.
And now I will go back to him. And we will consummate our engagement.
Engagement. Ha. What a gorgeous word.
To Be Continued.
Broughttoyouby:::winter.