Black Ties and White Lies(118)

I scoff at him, shaking hands with one of my closest friends. “Did you expect anything else? Had to see my girl before she’s busy warding off buyers all night.”

Camden whistles, tucking his hands into the pockets of his custom suit. “I’ve already had so many of them up my ass, asking if they could see the pieces ahead of time.” He looks toward my future wife at my side, giving her a tight smile. “I might beg your girl here to do a long-term residency on one of the floors.”

Her eyes go wide in shock. “No,” she says in disbelief.

I laugh. “About fucking time, Hunter,” I chide.

Before we can have any more of a conversation, one of Camden’s employees comes up and sweeps both of them away from me.

I barely get to speak with Margo the entire duration of the show. I don’t mind. Watching her do what she loves and talk about her art is the perfect way for me to spend my time. Plus, it gives me the chance to talk with her friends and family that we’d flown out for the occasion.

Every single one of her pieces sell—for a lot of money for an artist that isn’t well known.

It’s after midnight when we finally walk out of the gallery hand in hand. I’m exhausted, and I know she probably is as well, but I’m hoping that she’ll allow me one stop before we go home.

Margo looks up and down the sidewalk, her eyebrows drawn in together. “Where’s Ezra?”

I turn to her, grabbing onto both of our hands. “I was wondering if we could make one more stop?”

She cocks her head suspiciously. “To where?”

I smile, running my thumbs over the top of her hand. “Well, baby, it’s a surprise. So it’d defeat the purpose if I told you where…”

Her teeth dig into her lip as she smiles eagerly at me. Her eyes twinkle with excitement. “I do love a surprise.”

I wrap my arm around her, turning her body in the direction of our next destination. “Perfect. We’ll walk.”

It’s a short walk, something I’d done on purpose. We walk until I stop in front of a row of brownstones. On one side there’s the brownstones, on the other there’s an entrance to Central Park.

“What are we doing?” Margo questions hesitantly.

“What do you think of these?” I ask, turning her to the large, stone buildings in front of us. The row of houses in front of us are some of the most expensive in the city. Their proximity to everything in Manhattan something that is coveted by many.

“I think they’re beautiful, but why?”

I take advantage of her focus on the houses in front of me. Behind her, I lower to one knee as I reach into the pocket of my suit, my fingers connecting with a velvet box.

“Beck?” She turns around, a gasp falling from her mouth when she finds me on one knee behind her.

“Because I want to buy one for us. I know you love being high above the city, but one day I’d love to settle down in something like this with you, Margo Moretti. I want to raise kids here with you. Fuck, I want to do all the normal things with you in a house like this.”

“I’d love that,” she chokes, her hands finding her cheeks in shock. “But why are you on one—”

I pull out the ring box, holding it up between us and opening it.

“Not too long ago I told you I don't want to propose to you the way you deserved because I didn’t want to ruin the moment for you. I hated the thought of any other man ever being on his knee for you like I am right now, but I didn’t want to propose to you if things were still supposed to be fake between us. So, I waited. And I didn’t. But all along I knew one day, I’d love to get down on one fucking knee for you. To ask for forever with you.”

“Oh my god.” Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill from her eyes as she looks at the contents of the box.

“I’m proposing to you with what I want to be your wedding band because while you may have been wearing your engagement ring thinking it was fake, it never was fake to me. I always wanted you for real—never for pretend. I bought this ring for you in hopes that one day it’d be real. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, Margo Moretti. When I slipped that engagement ring on your finger—my grandmother’s ring—I hadn’t told you how much you meant to me at the time. I didn’t want to scare you away with how raw and real my feelings were. It’s all been laid out on the table now. You know exactly how I feel. So if you say yes, when I slip this band on your finger next to my grandmother’s ring, I want you to know it’s because I plan to marry you and make you mine forever. And if you want a different ring, we’ll buy it. I’ll buy you a million rings until you find the perfect one if it means you’re mine to love forever.”

I have to pry her hand from over her mouth. Both of our hands shake as I run my finger over the ring that used to belong to one of the women I loved most in the world. It’s incredibly sentimental to see it now, resting on the finger of the woman who stole my heart from the moment I laid eyes on her.

My heart hammers in my chest. The look of love in her eyes tell me everything I need to know. She’s been proving to me from the moment I got back from California that she loves me, that she wants this. But I’m so nervous to make this proposal everything she’s ever dreamed of—and hopefully maybe even more. “So, Margo Moretti. Will you marry me? For real this time? For forever?”