Black Ties and White Lies(95)

He adjusts my dress so the fabric falls back to the floor of the limo. I’m impressed to find it relatively wrinkle free.

His arms rest at either side of my head as he cages me against the seat with his body. I reach up, running my thumb underneath his lip to remove my lipstick. “You’ve got a little something right there,” I joke.

He allows me to wipe it away, warmth in his eyes as he watches me. “You seem less nervous now.”

I laugh. “A lot less nervous.”

His lips press to my nose for a moment before he pulls away. “Let’s go greet our guests then.”





As we climb the stairs to the event, I feel an immense amount of pride with Margo on my arm. She’s undoubtedly the most beautiful woman here, and I’ll be introducing her to everyone as my fiancée. It doesn’t get better than that. Nothing could ruin the high I’m feeling.

Planning an engagement party in under a week wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t want to wait. I was ready for everyone to know about us. I was on cloud nine when she’d told me she’d be my girlfriend. It meant more to me than I’d care to admit to myself. From the moment I spoke with her in that awful conference room in LA, I’d told myself to be cautious in the coming months. We’d established everything we were on something that wasn’t real. At least that’s what she thought.

Margo slips on one of the stairs, her fingers digging into my black suit as she tries to stay vertical. I wrap my arm around her, making sure she doesn’t fall in front of all the eyes watching us.

“I think I just about face planted in front of all of Manhattan,” she mutters under her breath.

I give a courteous nod to those watching us, holding onto her tightly. “I think all of Manhattan is a little bit of a stretch.” I place my hand over hers. If she goes down, we’ll both go down because there’s no way I’m letting her go. “I’ve got you,” I add.

We near the crowd of people waiting at the top of the stairs. I can feel Margo tense underneath me with anxiety. “I worked very hard to get rid of those nerves,” I tease.

She almost stumbles again, my words taking her by surprise. “You can’t bring that up when so many eyeballs are staring at us.”

My response is lost as we reach the top step. Some of our party enjoy cocktails as they wait for our arrival. Instantly people bombard us, all of them offering their congratulations. We politely thank each of them, some of them being the very same board members who’d encouraged me to settle down not too long ago.

We’re finishing up a conversation with my CTO when I spot my parents coming out of the large doors. “If you could excuse us,” I say, planting my hand on Margo’s waist and steering her toward them. It wasn’t just my need for the world knowing we were together that prompted such a quick turnaround for an engagement party, it was also the fact that my parents were about to embark on a month-long trip abroad. I wanted them to be here to celebrate, especially after what happened at dinner with them over a week ago, so hurrying the planning process seemed like the perfect option.

“I’m ready for a drink,” Margo murmurs as we get closer to my parents.

I chuckle, nodding my head. “Ditto.”

“You look radiant,” my mom tells Margo, pulling her into a hug.

Margo hugs her back, seemingly becoming less nervous speaking with a familiar face. “It’s not too much?”

My mom pulls away, her hands still on Margo’s arms as she shakes her head. “Never, sweetie. This is your night. You can wear whatever you want.”

The two of them begin a conversation as my dad claps his hand down on my shoulder. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Beckham. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

The four of us make our way deeper into the party, my eyes darting around the crowded space looking for a drink for Margo and I. “Yeah?” I ask. I’m easily happier than I’ve ever been and it’s all because of the woman next to me.

“It’s all I’ve wanted for you—your brother, too. For you to be happy. I’m glad you found it with her.” Mom had been insistent that we still invite Carter to the party tonight, and it’d be up to him if he’d come to support Margo and me. I’d much rather him not show up. There isn’t any part of me that wishes for his support. I don’t give a damn what he thinks. I just don’t want him insulting my future wife.

A waiter stops in front of us, smiling at Margo and I. “Champagne for the happy couple?” he asks, offering us crystal champagne flutes.

“Absolutely,” Margo says in excitement, hastily grabbing the champagne from his hand and downing it in one gulp.

I quirk an eyebrow at her.

She shrugs. “Guess I was still a little nervous after all.” She proceeds to take the second glass from the waiter and takes a small sip from what was supposed to be my glass.

The next hour rushes by in a blur. We’re pulled from one group of people to the next, fielding question after question about when the wedding will be, when we plan on having kids, where we plan to honeymoon and everything in between. Margo fields every question with grace. I listen carefully to every answer she gives, taking mental notes on what she envisions for a wedding, cataloging if she wants kids and even finding out a tropical honeymoon is not her dream honeymoon. It’s a long trip to Europe.