“I appreciate you using massive as a descriptor, because that’s what you were.”
“I was,” he agrees, and more tension eases.
“‘Request number two—after a solid make-up session, which will include whatever Lottie wants’”—I smirk at that—“‘Lottie will be required to permanently move in with Huxley, and into his bedroom, where he’s already made space in the closet for her clothes.’”
“My clothes or the personal items you picked out for me?” I ask.
“Whatever you want.”
“I prefer a mixture of both.”
“Done.” His facial expression lightens as he continues. “‘Request number three—Lottie drops all previous roles of fake fiancée and fake pregnant woman. Huxley realizes what a bad idea this was and has already cleared the air with Dave. He wants Lottie to live her best life now, free of any fake premise.’”
“Her best life?” I ask with a raised brow. He nods. “And things are cleared up with Dave? Really?”
“Yes, I spoke with him today. He wasn’t happy when I told him I’d fucked things up with you and told me I’d better get you back. I told him I intended to and that I already had dinner planned with you.”
“Dave is a smart man.” I push my hair over my shoulder, needing to busy my antsy hands.
“‘Request number four—even though the previous contract has been destroyed, Huxley is still indebted to Lottie and therefore will attend any social event to help her stick it to her old boss, but this time, he prefers to act as her real fiancé.’”
His eyes peer up at me.
Uh, did I hear that right? Real fiancé?
“‘Request number five—Lottie realizes that Huxley is a shell of a man without her. That he not only craves her in his life, but he needs her in his life. She’s become a permanent fixture and not having her in his life is non-negotiable.’ Which brings me to ‘Request number six—Lottie follows Huxley to the rooftop.’” Huxley stands and holds out his hand.
I don’t take it right away.
I’m not even sure I can with how shaky I am.
“Lottie . . .”
Mustering up some words, I say, “I’m, uh . . . I’m going to need my lawyer to look at that contract.”
His smile nearly knocks me over, it’s so brilliantly handsome, and full of joy. It propels my hand into his and guides me through the house, up the stairs, and to the rooftop. When Huxley pushes open the door, he allows me to go through first, revealing the beautiful setup.
Two wooden lounge chairs occupy the middle of the space, decorated with rose petals, and surrounded by fake candles that offer just enough light to set the scene.
“Wow,” I say, taking it all in.
The door shuts behind us, and I turn to find Huxley bent down on one knee, holding a ring box.
This can’t be real. This seriously can’t be the life I’m living right now, but when he opens his mouth and says my name in a breathless tone, I realize this is very much real.
“Lottie, I love you. You’re beautifully frustrating, annoyingly right most of the time, and you bring me more joy than I ever thought I’d be lucky enough to have. You complement my surly attitude. You put me in my place when I need it, and you listen to me when I need a listening ear. Plain and simple, you complete me, and I know for certain, I can’t live this life without you in it.” He pops open the ring box, revealing a beautiful, cushion-shaped diamond ring with diamond accents on the band. It’s different than the current ring on my finger, edgier, just like me. “I love you so goddamn much. Please, would you accept the contract, and will you also do me the honor of being my wife?”
I stare down at him, those deep, mysterious eyes piercing through me, holding me captive.
They always will.
I believe he’s had my heart from the very beginning. Even through our ups and downs, there was a connection, an unrelenting bond that drew me toward him. There’s no denying I love this man, there’s no denying I’ll always love him. He’s it for me. I realize this. But . . .
“You hurt me, Huxley.”
He stands up and quickly closes the space between us. “I know, Lottie, and I’m really fucking sorry. I can’t promise you I won’t hurt you again, because we’ll always have disagreements, but I’ll promise you this—you’re my number one, you’re the person I trust, the person I know will always be by my side, cheering for me and telling me when I’m an asshole. And I’ll do everything possible to make you happy. To make sure I never—on purpose—make you cry again.” His hand rises to my face and his thumb gently rubs across my cheek. “I love you, baby.”