Thank You, It’s a Surprise

THANK YOU, IT'S A SURPRISE

K idnapped.

I was being kidnapped.

Okay, so I was being kidnapped but by my fiancé.

Except, was one ‘kidnapped' when they were excited for the outcome? Whatever Sebastian was up to would, no doubt, be remarkable.

I was being the ‘good' kind of kidnapped.

"Sebastian," I whined, stretching out his name. "You know how much I like to be blindfolded," I stopped for a beat to smirk in his direction even though all I could currently see was darkness, "but don't you think this is a little overkill?" I pointed to the black satin wrapped around my head.

His knowing grin was palpable, I didn't need to have my eyes uncovered to be certain. Flashes of the last few months since our engagement raced through my mind, and I had to stop myself from squirming in the passenger seat of our rental car.

"No, it's not overkill and don't distract me with sex, Zona," Sebastian replied with a reprimanding tone, though I could tell he was trying not to laugh. "It's a surprise and if I allow you to see your surroundings, it'll ruin everything." He placed his hand on my thigh with a reassuring squeeze and returned to driving. "Trust me."

I did trust him. With everything. But I was antsy.

"We left my mom's house almost an hour ago, though."

Sebastian groaned. "It's been ten minutes, you goofball. Now, shush."

We made a left onto a road, and he accelerated, the blinker clicking. Okay, so, ten minutes from my mom's house, he turned left and punched the gas; we must be on the freeway. Headed where? I had zero clue. We came to Arizona to visit Mom for her birthday, less than four days from Christmas, and all I could think about was how much shopping I had left to do before we flew back up to Toronto to spend the holidays with our joined families. Which basically meant his mom, dad, sister and my mom. Small, intimate, exactly how we liked it nowadays. With everything since the engagement and our relationship becoming public, our time spent alone didn't mean alone. If we went to dinner, there were paparazzi. If we went to the beach, someone was taking pictures. If we went to the studio – I'd been helping him with his back vocals on his new album – his entire team was around. Even when we'd sneak away and tell no one we were heading to record, someone was there. Always. Every single time. I understood the life, but sometimes, I truly missed being alone. I craved it more than anything. Alone always, and I mean, always meant we were alone with someone else. We had our little coffeehouse in San Diego, but that felt so far away now. Another lifetime ago. We hadn't been back in months.

Sitting silently next to Sebastian as he hummed my favorite song of his, he eventually grabbed hold on my hand, stroking the back as we made our way farther away from my mom's place.

It felt like years – eons, really – but eventually, he exited the freeway, made multiple turns, spoke to some random person, and came to a stop somewhere.

For a few seconds, we sat peacefully, neither of us saying a word. I could hear Sebastian's easy breathing along with my deep intakes of air, and just when I thought I might go mad waiting for him to do something, he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. At one point during the drive, he rolled down my window, so I was able to hear the rocks under his feet as he walked to my side. And somewhere behind us, maybe less than a half mile away, a dog was barking, and even farther from that, I vaguely registered a motorcycle zooming down the road. It was all so odd, I had lost my sense of sight, but everything around me felt all so close – so big. So intense. My hearing enhanced. Every movement against my skin felt more sensational. I couldn't see Sebastian, and he wasn't sitting next to me anymore, but I could sense him. He was just outside the car door, rustling in his pocket for something only to walk farther away for a moment. When he was back, close to my door, I heard the rustle of his leather jacket as he reached for the handle.

"Sunflower," he said, so quietly, I trembled, small bubbles of anticipation rippling under my skin.

I turned to the sound of his voice, trying desperately to see through the fabric.

"Are you ready?"

A small, jerky intake of air, I placed my fingers on the handle, only for Sebastian to place his on mine.

"I love you. With everything I am. You know that. But if you open that door, I'll drive back to your mom's house."

I frowned at him under the blindfold as I mumbled, "Rude."

"Hey," he said gently, opening the door for me, "it's not rude, this is serious business."

I could feel his mischievous grin as he spoke. "Fine." I offered my hand, and he took it, lacing our fingers together.

"Now, I know this is weird, and I know you didn't expect to do this today . . ."

"Shopping, Sebastian. So much shopping." I pouted with my bottom lip protruding.

He chuckled, booping my bottom lip with his finger, moving me away from the car to shut the door. "I know, love. Don't worry. There's still time for that." He released my hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

I could feel a slight shudder in his body, the physical reaction making me more curious as we walked from a gravel ground onto what felt like cobblestone. Somewhere in front of us I could hear water flowing. "Where are we?" I couldn't help but ask. It had felt like forever since we left my mom's house, and the anticipation had a nagging way of slowly killing me.

Sebastian stopped walking, holding on to my shoulder, making me halt my steps. He turned me halfway around and took my hands in his. Taking a deep breath, he twisted my engagement ring on my finger like he did when we were in bed every night. "Music was my entire life. I lived, breathed, dreamt about lyrics and melodies. If I had a quiet moment, it was spent journaling or writing poetry that hopefully led to another song. Every single second consisted of me furthering my passion. There wasn't a moment in my entire life I didn't think about my next move. Always going. Always walking forward. I couldn't get off the train track that was . . . my life."

Tears welled in my eyes. I wished more than anything to be able to see his face.

He gripped my hands tighter. "The train tracks were rusty, the path never straight, never easy. I thought," he stopped to swallow, "I thought the best thing in my life would be my music."

My body shook as he released me, carefully removing the blindfold. But it didn't matter what was around us, it didn't matter the surprise, when I opened my eyes, all I could see was Sebastian. The world around us blurred, but the wonderful, perfect, absolutely indescribable man in front of me was in high definition.

He smiled brightly, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. "Hi, beautiful."

Wetness escaped from the corners of my eyes. "Hi."

He laughed, his hand skirting down my arm to clutch my hand again. "But then, I met you."

"Total accident."

He nodded, his eyes misting. "It probably wasn't fated in the stars like some grandiose notion that I'd write about in my music. We weren't brought together by a bunch of gods, hellbent on getting us together, but we found each other. Somehow, in this world of countless faces, obsessed fans, egotistical artists and celebrities, I saw you in the crowd, reading a goddamn book," he said with mock exhaustion, and I laughed, the hot trail of tears down my cheeks a welcome sensation. "And in absolute Sebastian fashion, I'm extremely proud to say, I fell in love with your words first. I fell in love with your mind. The imagination that stemmed my favorite book of all time."

The Edge of Something Beautiful, my first novel, brought us together, but our love for our art is what cemented our fates, connecting us forever.

"But the second I realized who you were, realized that this phenomenal woman," he said, cupping my cheek, "with a brilliant mind, capable of writing absolute art out of my life, she had the ability to love someone like me, someone lost, someone quite jaded, even when I didn't want to see it – even when I denied it. She loved me. She found something in me that I didn't see. Something beyond the talent and concerts. Something beyond the broody attitude. She saw me. She became someone I was safe with."

I nodded into his hand, allowing his every word to seep into my very being, marking me, tattooing his emotions onto my bones.

"I wasn't in hell when we met, not in some broken sense that made me a martyr. I wasn't disgusted with my life, my situation. I had a good life. I traveled, I got to live doing what I loved. But I wasn't happy. I was simply surviving, depending on my next hit, my next album to get me through. An unattainable high. And I was content with all of that." He stopped, a tear trailing down his cheek. I caught it with my thumb. "I think I would've let my life slip by. I could've pretended so many things, pretended I wasn't whole, pretended the music was enough, pretended I could go through this life without someone to fill an empty part of me that yearned, but didn't have enough understanding to slap sense into me." He squinted, the bright December sun still unbelievably blinding. "You don't miss what you don't know. But, I know now. I'd miss you, Arizona. I'd miss the way you quirk your eyebrow while you write or the way you could survive on cereals alone."

"Plural," I laughed, remembering how he found me in his tour bus a while back, surrounded by burnt pans and scorched food, eating multiple bowls of cereal. I had accepted my fate after that day. I wasn't a chef. Cereal . . . cereal I could handle. Tried and true.

His wide grin overtook his face, his eyes briming with tears. "Cereals. There are so many things I'd miss if you left. I could write an entire book on every little detail of who you are and all the things that make you . . . you."

"I'm sure you could."

He pursed his lips. "Don't tempt me."

I smiled. "You'd outsell me, I'm sure."

"A book about you? I hate to tell you, Sunflower, but it would be a bestseller. How could it not?"

I shook my head. "You're insane."

"But you love me."

My eyes fluttered, a lump forming in my throat. "So much."

"I'm being serious, Zona. My love for you," he took a moment, shaking his head. "I thought I knew the intensity my parents felt toward each other. I thought the words I wrote were a good indication of how I felt." He struggled to find the right words. "Sunflower, this is it. This . . . this is everything. You're my everything."

That was when I broke. Sebastian never made me feel less than anything in his life. I knew, in fact, just how important I was – how much he loved me. But something about his tone, his touch, the way he was looking so intently at me, made me realize I had no real concept of how he truly felt about me. His words were beautiful, but his actions, they were powerful. They were like the air in my lungs, the molecules that made up every single organism on this planet. They simply were more than I could ever hope for. I had no idea how I got so incredibly lucky.

I reached up to cup his face with my hand, standing on my tiptoes to gently place my lips on his. His chin trembled as I pulled away, wiping his tears now. "I love you, Sebastian."

He nodded, closing his eyes, almost to remind himself that I wasn't going away. He sniffled, composed himself and smiled down at me. "I know."

I grinned. "I know you do."

"I know you love me, and I know you've . . . we've been struggling with being alone – or the fact that we're never alone."

I snorted in agreement.

"You know how you and Pen are in the process of redecorating our house in Toronto?"

My eyebrows scrunched, I tilted my head. "Yeah." Me and his manager, Penelope, have been scouring the internet for weeks now, trying to figure out exactly how Sebastian and I wanted to redo his home. Not on my accord, of course. Sebastian, about a month and a half ago, got this wild idea to change his whole house, hoping that it would, and I quote, "Help Arizona feel more at home." I already felt at home, Sebastian was my home, but he was so set on my things being a part of his Canada life, I couldn't deny him.

"Well, that little project wasn't for the Toronto house."

My face must've said what my mouth couldn't because all I could do was look at him with a question in my eyes, my mouth agape.

He turned my body around, and in front of me, was the most beautiful home. It had a warm white exterior, stucco, with wide windows that had shutters on the sides. It was one-story, but grand, long, the home had to be at least 3000 square feet big. Bigger, even. And then I saw it, the hunter green door.

"Sebastian," I said, warily, "what did you do?"

He moved around, next to me, grasping my hand. "It's ours, Zona."

I couldn't take my eyes off the house, afraid it would evaporate. "You . . . you bought me a house? You bought me this house?" It was a complete coincidence. About four months ago, I had picked up a magazine while we were in an airport, and it featured this beautiful home just about forty minutes from my mom's. I had told Sebastian that it looked like a home I used to dream about as a child.

And he bought it. He bought the house from the magazine.

"I did," he replied. "Is that okay? It'll be our safe place. Away from everyone. My team has been informed that this place is off-limits. Even Pen knows she must be invited to visit. This place . . . this is our haven. It'll be our base. Whenever we need space from life and the fans and the people, this is where we'll go."

Finally tearing my eyes away, I turned to him and stared, trying to figure out what to say to such a grand and wonderful gesture. Instead of using words, because they'd fail me anyway, I threw my arms around his shoulders and hugged him with the fierceness that pumped through my veins. I breathed him in, my nose against his neck. "Thank you," I whispered. "It's perfect."

Releasing me, he led me through iron gate to the front yard, a radiant smile pulling at his lips. The open courtyard was lush with grass and cacti, seasonal flowers and a majestic tree that looked to grow oranges.

Taking keys out of his jacket pocket, I eyed the wide, wrap around porch, comfortable seating already set up. I shook my head, everything in my cart from the furniture store already here.

Once inside, I looked around, dumbfounded as he showed me every bedroom, four of them, the kitchen, a dining room, living room and a small gym. The couches I picked out with Pen were already built, along with every bed, chairs, and dining room table. Even the pots and pans I had found were washed and already put away in the cabinets. The entire house was stocked with all the things I knew I'd love. The backyard had an entire orchard of trees, orange, lemon and lime. To the side, there was an entire garden with Sebastian's favorite herbs – he was the one who did the cooking after my ‘cereals' debacle. And in the middle was a pool, not big, but perfect for floating, which was what I wanted because swimming wasn't a strong suit of mine.

Back into the house, my eyes found our suitcases. "You . . . we get to stay here tonight?" I pointed to our clothes and important things sitting next to the front door. I must've missed them.

Sebastian nodded. "This is our home now. We needed our things."

I shook my head, unable to wrap my mind around the fact that I thought we came to Arizona to visit, and now . . . now we lived here. At least, sometimes. "What about our family? We're meant to head out to Toronto."

Lifting his shoulder, a sly smile on his face, Sebastian bit his lip. "Change of plans. They're all coming here."

My eyes went wide.

"They're all coming here to celebrate and then they're going to their respective places to sleep."

I giggled, my life feeling disgustingly wonderful. "I'm so happy. This is the best Christmas present."

Sebastian winked. "Wait until next year."

I couldn't even imagine, but knowing Sebastian, he'd do something even more grand and find a way to blow me away.

Because that's who he was.

Literally everything.

"Want to take a swim?" he asked.

I shook my head, a greedy look in my eyes he knew well. "Bedroom."

Thank You, Next Chapter

In Paris, he was abandoned as she created a masterpiece.

In New Mexico, she found inspiration all while he couldn't write a single lyric.

In New York, he was given an ultimatum just as she ignored her agent's emails.

In Colorado, everything changed.

Zona Carver finds inspiration for her novels in unlikely places, but when she decides to go see Sebastian March in concert, she doesn't expect to inspire him. On a whim, he asks her to go on tour, but Zona has a complicated past with the music business and returning to her old life leaves her feeling uncertain. Before she can worry about the consequences of her actions, she's packing up her entire life and hopping on a bus with Sebastian. City by city, words are written, and memories are made, but the past has a pesky way of catching up to you. What happens on the road, doesn't always stay there, and hopefully they can survive the wild ride.