Levi squeezes my hand and leads me through a door into a sleek lobby with framed prints of the Dallas skyline. He releases me to step to the receptionist at the desk. That man is a vision in his tailored navy suit. I can’t believe he’s mine. He turns to wink at me and I nearly swoon off my heels. Someone bring me some smelling salts from Regency England.
I twist around to take in my surroundings. Is this a fancy museum of some kind? Why are we dressed like this? Finally, he arrives back at my spot.
“Tom Ford should put you on a billboard,” I say.
He formally offers the crook of his arm—I love when he does that—and guides me down the empty hall to a well-polished elevator. A blurry reflection of my black velvet dress stares back at me. It’s easily the most beautiful object I’ve ever owned … and the first formal dress I’ve worn since Prom. With Levi, beauty can be an asset rather than?—
Oh. His hand presses on my lower back, pulling me close.
He angles down to whisper in my ear, “You in this dress. Mm. Audrey Hepburn wants her elegance back.”
This guy. My blissful grin is interrupted by a demandingdingfrom the elevator, and it falls to a pout. Up, up, up we go until I’m thoroughly confused. How high are we going? There are only two buttons—for the lobby and one other floor—but the whir of the ascending elevator continues.
When we finally step out … Wow. City views for days. Floor-to-ceiling windows afford a glorious view of the sun poised to set behind the Dallas skyline. Soon the city lights will glow. This must be Reunion Tower, five hundred feet above it all. I tug on the crook of Levi’s arm. Mystery dances in his eyes. This dim restaurant drips with chandeliers and elegant diners. Clinkingforks, and soft, tinkering laughter melds with the distant notes of a piano.
“Levi,” I whisper. “Is this too much?”
“I’d like to spend a little bit of that money on the girl I love.”
Okay. I need Levi to know that I love him with or without his trust fund.
Protect him from relying on it and from being hurt again because of it.
He glances over with a question. Oh, I quit walking. The hostess continues to a semi-private window-side table on the far end of the dining area. Of course Levi would plan ahead and finagle the best spot in the restaurant. But that means this isn’t a spur of the moment dinner after all. Could it be … No. I overheard Austin imply that it’s next weekend.
Levi thanks the hostess and pulls out my chair. “What do you think?”
“Maybe we keep the fabulous dinners to special occasions?”
He agrees with his most kissable smirk. Let Ben Folds know—I’m the luckiest.
This afternoon he brought me an enormous box filled with this magnificent dress—for no reason at all—and said we needed a place for me to wear it. Then he whisked me off to Dallas with barely an hour’s notice. I don’t love surprises, but I’ll grant that this is well worth a change of plans. To think I could be eating at Saga right now.
My eyes keep drifting past Kit’s shoulder, thumb drumming my fork as I fight to stay present. Her head tilts, catching every slip of my attention. This is the night.
“Spill,” she says. “What’s going on behind those obscenely attractive eyes of yours?”
I sheepishly crane my neck to search the restaurant. It should be coming any minute. “I’ll share with you over dessert.”
I’ve guarded this surprise for months, but the widening of her eyes tells me that her curiosity is shifting into realization. My heart pounds and mouth dries. It’s not like we haven’t discussed this, but I want it so badly. I’m dying to know that she wants it too.
The sampler platter I arranged finally arrives—five desserts, but all I see is the tiny white wedding cake in the middle, her ring right there in plain sight. I press my leg to stop the bouncing.
Her eyes fill. It’s go time. “I spoke with Archie and?—“
“Yes,” she blurts. “Yes, I really want to marry you.” She grabs the ring off the tiny cake, removes the icing with a swipe of her napkin, and slips it onto her left ring finger herself.
My resulting laughter releases the tension in my body like a pressure valve. Her response couldn’t be better. I couldn’t be any happier. She wants me too.
Thank you. Thank you.
The ring sparkles magnificently in the light of the chandeliers. She toggles back and forth between me and her finger. She likes it.
“It was Granny’s,” I say.
Her eyes widen with compassion, and my gut tightens—I miss her. Kit got to meet her over a year ago, a couple weeks before she died. They’re so much alike. “Another time you’ve jumped the gun and missed my speech,” I tease.
“Ooh, a speech.” She sits back in her seat. “I’m all ears. Please go on.”
