Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
My throat had closed up, making it impossible to speak, but I managed a smile and a nod.
“This isn’t a real proposal, because this isn’t a real engagement. But I thought maybe we could have one real thing to celebrate our friendship and the way we show up for each other. Something that will outlast this fake engagement.” His smile turned a little cocky as he shrugged. “And honestly, I can afford it.”
A laugh escaped me, but so did a tear.
Hutton brushed it from my cheekbone with his thumb. “If you never want to wear the ring, you don’t have to. But will you accept it?”
I nodded, desperately trying not to cry. “Okay.”
“Good.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Let’s go.”
At dinner, I kept reaching for my wine glass with my left hand so I could admire the ring. I loved the way it glittered in the candlelight. “You know, I’ve never been the girl who craves fancy, shiny things, but I am head over heels in love with this ring.”
“Good.”
“But Hutton.” I sat up straight in my seat and gave him a death stare. “No more expensive surprises, okay? Promise me.”
He reached for his whiskey. “That’s no fun. I like treating you.”
“But this is all one-sided! How am I going to treat you?”
He took a drink, swirled the liquid in his glass, and sipped again. “We’ll talk.”
My core muscles clenched.
All I could think was, Oklahoma. Bumblebee. Roy Kent.
After dinner, I was dying to try the warm chocolate cake with raspberry creamsicle ice cream, but we were running a little late and still had to pick up our tickets. “Another time,” Hutton promised. “I’ll make sure you get to taste it before we go home.”
Our driver took us over to the Metropolitan Opera House, and we made our way to the box office, where Hutton gave his name. “Do you know where the seats are?” I asked, glancing around the lobby with its massive cascading staircases, deep red carpet, and soaring windows.
“Not exactly.” Hutton loosened his tie, and I realized he was probably uncomfortable in such a crowded public place.
“Here. Let me see.” I glanced at the tickets and saw that we were in a section called Parterre Box 24. It was easy enough to find someone to ask, and a few minutes later we were shown our very own private box, which had three seats in a front row, and five more in a second and third.
“Wait a minute.” I looked around. “Are all these seats ours?”
“Yes. I bought the whole box,” Hutton said. “I like privacy.”
I laughed. “One of those billionaire perks?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
Needless to say, the view of the stage was incredible. And I had zero chill as I looked around at the sea of red velvet, the sparkling chandeliers, the gold leaf, the marble, the towering ceiling. I don’t think I closed my mouth for five full minutes. “This is amazing! It’s so beautiful!”
“It is.” Hutton sat down beside me.
“Do you come here a lot?”
“Not really. I brought my parents here once—my dad likes opera—and I attended the fundraising gala once.”
“Oooh, I bet that was fancy. Ball gowns and tuxes? Cocktails and small talk?”
He nodded. “I lasted about twenty minutes.”
I laughed and took his hand. “Well, don’t worry. I won’t make you talk to me.”
“I like talking to you. Among other things.”
My heart skipped a beat as the lights dimmed. I could get used to this, I thought. But then I corrected myself.
I could not get used to this—not this box at the Met, this man beside me, or this feeling inside my chest. In fact, getting used to this would be the worst possible thing that could happen.
I glanced down at our hands.
My ring shone brilliantly, even in the dark.
THIRTEEN
FELICITY
After the ballet was over, we met our driver outside, and Hutton listened to me gush about the music and the dancing and the costumes and the sets and how magical the whole evening had been the entire ride back to the hotel.
And on the elevator. And walking down the hall. And inside our suite, as I awkwardly waltzed across the living room. “The dancers were so graceful,” I said. “So elegant and artistic but also strong and powerful. It’s amazing how much emotion they can convey just by moving their arms a certain way. Or changing the angle of their head. They have such incredible command of every muscle in their bodies, you know?”
“Yes,” he said, and I realized I hadn’t heard his voice in like twenty minutes.
I turned around and saw him pouring a drink at the bar cart near the dining table. “Sorry! I’m talking nonstop, aren’t I?”
“I don’t mind.”
“I just loved it all so much.”
“I’m glad. Want something to drink? Whiskey or scotch?”
“No, thanks. Mostly I just want to take these heels off.”