Page 178 of The Holiday Fakers
“Yep, that’s it. Perfect,” I say as Brody adjusts his stance. “Are you okay holding that pose for the next twenty minutes or so?”
“Sure, no problem. What’s my motivation again?”
“Champion of the sword, master of magic, king of all he surveys. You’re gazing down at the battlefield of Ashmyre after your victory over the Skarthven, knowing you’ve vanquished your enemies, and no one dares challenge you to the crown.”
“So, just a normal day at the office, then?”
I grin. “And you’re also the hottest elf lord around.”
“Even dressed like this and splattered in fake blood?”
“Especiallylike that.”
He gives me a smoldering look that promises even more earth-shattering sex tonight when we get back to our hotel, then adopts the stance I’m after.
We’re perched on one of the massive limestone boulders along the slopes of Castle Hill in Arthur’s Pass National Park, atthe end of a long day of filming. Most of the crew has already headed back to Christchurch, but Brody and I stayed behind so I could sketch him in this incredible landscape.
Massive boulders, some larger than buildings, are scattered across the rolling green hills, as if tossed carelessly by the gods. From our vantage point, we have a full 360-degree view of the surrounding mountains. It’s an epic setting, featured everywhere fromThe Chronicles of NarniatoThe Lord of the RingsandThe Hobbit.
When we got to New Zealand four months ago, the production ofThe Chronicles of the Sword and the Flamegave me a folding chair, a table, and a small portable easel to use on set so I can either draw by hand or on a large tablet. Each morning, I pinch myself that this is my life now, and with every bit of positive feedback I receive, my confidence grows.
My pencil moves fast over the paper, sketching out Brody in full costume, hair, and makeup. My inner nerd is officially out of the box and I’m leaning into every “Brody as a warrior elf” fantasy I’ve ever had. Luckily, he thinks it’s cute, and the hair and makeup team doesn’t ask too many questions when he leaves the set still wearing his pointy ears …
Right now, I wonder if he’s ever been hotter. He’s dressed for battle in an outfit of supple leather and hardened metal plating adorned with intricate filigree. His shoulders are capped with elaborate pauldrons shaped like the wings of a bird, and his arms are protected by articulated gauntlets, etched with an alloy pattern of vines and leaves.
He’s wearing leather leggings and boots, his gold-and-silver helm lying on the ground, and his bloodied sword still in hand. His hair is longer than usual, and fake blood and dirt streak his face.
It takes all my self-control not to let go of my pencil and jump him.
It’s golden hour, and the sun is setting in the west, casting Brody in an ethereal glow and glinting off the metal of his costume. I quickly take a few photos for future reference, then keep drawing, capturing his energy and power at this pivotal moment in the story.
I’m so in the zone, I don’t notice time passing until I come to a natural stop and take a cleansing breath.
“Can I see?” he asks.
I nod, suddenly bone-tired, and glance at my watch. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it had been so long.”
“It’s all good. I was enjoying the view.”
He lets out a long whistle as he gazes at my drawing. “Holy shit, Piper. That’s incredible!”
My chest puffs with pride. “I’ll make more tweaks when we’re back, but I’m so pleased with how it’s turned out. It makes such a difference doing it out here.”
I gaze at the landscape around us, the very one I imagined last Christmas when Martha asked me to think of what I wanted more than anything in the world, then blink, reminding myself I’m really here.
Standing to stretch my limbs, I face Brody and smile, but then falter. There’s something in his eyes, a hesitancy or worry. I’m so finely attuned to him that I know something’s up, and it doesn’t look good.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “You okay?”
He’s gazing at me intently, his expression so serious that my heart flutters.
“Brody?”
He drops to one knee.
“Piper. I love you, and I’ve always loved you.”
He takes my hands in his. “For me, it’s always been you, and it alwayswillbe you. I know it may seem sudden, but this hasbeen on my mind for over a decade. When you’re ready, and if you’re ever ready, will you marry me?”
