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?”
Her bottom lip trembles as she loses control with her emotions, her body overtaken with joy. “Yes,” she croaks. “Absolutely. Over and over again, I’ll always say yes.” She flies into me, wrapping her arms around me and cradling my head to her chest.
I don’t know how long we stay in that position, but eventually she pulls away. I hold the box up again, offering it up to her. My fingers still tremble with nerves as I pull the band from the box. It slides down her finger effortlessly, the band creating a crown of diamonds around the top of the ring. It makes the classic ring more artistic. It’s not an ordinary band—it’s why I thought she’d love it. The style is a mix between vintage and modern.
“It’s beautiful,” Margo marvels, staring down at the ring and band combination.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she confirms. She looks up at me with tear-stained cheeks. “I love you. I can’t wait to be your wife, Beck.”
I stand up to kiss her, sealing our mouths together. Our first kiss felt like a promise of the possibility of more. This kiss is a promise of forever.
My hands slide underneath her coat, needing to feel even closer to her. “How’s a wedding tomorrow sound?”
She shakes her head at me, looking up at me with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Absolutely not, Beckham Sinclair. I want a big-ass wedding with all the cheesy things.”
“You just want to spend my money,” I tease.
Her lips rub together before breaking out in a wide smile. “No,” she answers innocently. “I just want everyone to see that you’re off the market. That you’re mine.”
“I think anyone could see the way I look at you and know that I’m hopelessly, madly, desperately in love with you.”
“A big show of it still wouldn’t be too bad.”
“Anything you want, baby. It’s yours. We’ll invite all of New York if that’s your wish.”
She angles her body to look at the houses behind her. I never envisioned myself wanting to move out of my high-rise penthouse suite. But I don’t see us staying there forever. Eventually, I’d love to move out here. To have an actual home—one where we can raise the basketball team of children I want to have with her.
“Which one is for sale?”
I point to the corner one—the biggest one with the best view.
“That one.”
Her fingers find mine, her cold hand sliding into mine. The air isn’t as frigid as it typically is in February, but there’s still a bite to it. Both our cheeks are undoubtedly going to be rubbed raw from the cold and bitter air by the time Ezra picks us up.
“I should’ve guessed. That’s the biggest one.”
“You know me so well,” I joke.
“It’s kind of a shame. I liked the sex above the city.”
“You can visit me at my office any time and we can make that happen.”
“Promise?”
“Hell yeah, Violet.”
I pull my phone out, telling Ezra that he can head our way. I look back at her to find her watching me. “Plus, we don’t have to move yet. I just wanted to plan for the future.”
Her nose crinkles with her smile. “I like planning a future with you, Beckham Sinclair.”
“Let’s do it for the rest of our lives, Margo Moretti.”
We walk hand in hand down the quiet Upper West Side sidewalk, the two of us discussing the future. She wants to get started on wedding planning right away as she takes a break from creating new pieces from Camden. I let her ramble on for as long as she wants. Even as we get into the back of the car, Ezra takes us through the city back to the place we call home for now, she doesn’t stop talking.