AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"What kind of surprise?"
He kisses my neck. "Not that kind. Not yet."
I lean back onto the bench seat. Okay. Our destination is a surprise, and we're not spending the trip having sex. "Want to give me a clue?"
"No."
I shake my head. "You're so difficult. I shouldn't put up with you."
"You shouldn't."
"Why do I?"
"My body."
I laugh. "Not your money?"
"No. It's the sex."
"It helps."
"Only helps?"
"I also happen to adore you."
"Not as much as I adore you."
Blake slides onto the bench seat next to me, trailing his fingertips up and down my inner thigh, right under the hem of my skirt.
So, so close.
I yelp when the limo stops and he pulls his hand away.
"You can take it off," he says.
I pull the blindfold over my head, toss it aside, and step out of the limo.
We're in Midtown, in front of a tall building. The Empire State Building. It's blue and white today.
"For your first day of school," he says. "The whole city is celebrating you."
"It's celebrating the college, and it was purple for NYU yesterday."
He takes my hand and leads me into the building. It's past the hours for the observation deck, but a little thing like that would never stop Blake. He motions hello to the guard and steps into the elevator.
"Last time I checked, you're not afraid of heights," he says.
"Not at all." There's nothing like the rush you get from being up in the clouds.
He waves a key card at the elevator and presses the button for the observation deck. I don't even ask myself how he does these things anymore. It's some rich person trick.
It's just like when I was a kid. The elevator goes so many stories so fast that my ears pop. I swallow three time to unpop them. Ah. Finally.
The doors slide open, and we step outside. The entire observation deck is empty save for a lone security guard in the corner.
I press the double doors open and step onto the deck balcony. It's windy up here but the air is warm. Perfect September weather. Perfect for the city.
The sun is setting behind us. It sets so late this time of year. Blake slides his arm around my hips as I squeeze the guardrail. The city is all around us, and it's beautiful.
A smile creeps onto his lips. He brushes the hair from my eyes again. He laughs as the wind blows it back. "That shows me."
He pulls me away from the edge, so we're in the middle of the deck.
Blake's eyes find mine. He looks at the concrete. It's almost like he's nervous, but that can't be possible. Blake Sterling doesn't get nervous.
"Let's hope this goes better than last time." He takes my hand and drops to one knee.
Holy shit.
"Kat Wilder, I'm madly in love with you, and the only thing missing in my life—" he pulls a ring box from his pocket and pops it open "—is making you my wife."
I stare at the ring.
"It's the same one," he admits. "It really does suit you."
I reach for the words. My voice cracks. "Yes. Of course."
He slides the ring on my finger.
I tug at his hands, pulling him to his feet. He slides his arms around me, leans in close, and kisses me.
He kisses me like he never wants to come up for air.
Extended Epilogue: Dirty Holiday
Chapter 1
December 22nd
There are only four blocks between my subway exit and the apartment. Today, they feel like four miles. It's not quite freezing, but the wind is heavy enough to send a chill through my wool coat. My boots are leaking. My jeans are soaked.
None of that matters when I see Blake. He's standing in the lobby, hands in his suit pockets, shoulders pulled back, hard expression on his face.
He softens when I step into the door. His eyes find mine. I can't help but smile. I can't help but throw myself into his arms. I'm sure my boots are dirtying his perfect grey suit, but I don't care.
Blake runs his fingers through my hair. "How was it?"
"Manageable. Good thing I had such an excellent physics tutor." I press my lips into his. Mmm. He tastes like vanilla. "I think I passed. Maybe even got a B."
"I'm sure it's an A. I'm proud of you."
I plant my legs on the floor. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"Yes."
"You're ditching work for me?"
"We have something to discuss." His voice is heavy. Which means bad news.
I hate bad news.
I stop to admire the giant Christmas tree in the lobby. It's been here a few weeks, but I've been too focused on school to take a decent mental picture. It would look amazing in a comic panel— the image of untouchable, elegant decadence.
Even three feet away, I can smell the pine needles. I move closer, run my fingers over the soft red tinsel. This tree is huge. Ridiculous even. It’s thirty feet tall and utterly flawless.
But not in that Beyonce kind of way.
In a lifeless, belongs in a magazine and not reality kind of way.
I imagine drawing it. I'd have to give it an entire page. I'd have to find a way to capture its majesty and its lack of soul all at once.
Blake runs his fingers over my chin. "Kat."
I turn back to him, examine the expression in his eyes. He's fighting something. "What's wrong?"
"We'll talk in the penthouse." Blake nods a hello/goodbye to the guard. His grip tightens around my wrist as he pulls me to the elevators.
It's rougher than usual. I know better than to ask. Blake isn't closed off when we're alone. But in public, he's a wall of steel.
Inside, the penthouse is as sparse as always. It’s free of holiday cheer. If it weren't for the bleak white sky bleeding in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, it could be June.
Okay, that's not quite true. The trees in the park are barren, brown and gray instead of vibrant green, and all the people on the street are wearing heavy coats.
I kick off my boots and hang my coat on the rack. Blake sets my backpack next to the couch. That's where I sit when I draw. And he hates when my stuff is on the couch. He must know how much I want to sketch the scenery.
"Coffee?" he asks.
"Sure."
I watch as he fixes two cups and hands one to me.
The drink warms my fingers. Sweet, rich, vanilla. Like his lips. "I know it's cutting it a little close, but I was thinking we could get a Christmas tree tomorrow. Or even today. It's only noon. We have time to go to the lot on Fifty-Ninth or to grab a plastic tree at Target."
His expression hardens. He turns to the window, steps into the soft glow. Winter light is beautiful. I need to immortalize him. To capture the highlights and shadows and all the hurt in his eyes.
I
move closer. Run my fingertips over his cheek. He leans into my touch, letting out a long, heavy breath. Not quite a sigh but close.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
His eyes stay on the window. "I don't celebrate Christmas." He takes a long sip of his coffee, breaking my touch. "Your sister will be here tomorrow. Celebrate here or use the company jet to take her to Aruba. I'll be at the office until the twenty-sixth."
I play with my giant engagement ring. It's hard, expensive, elegant. Like his apartment. Like his company. Like him. "Are you going to explain?"
His facade cracks. Hurt spreads over his face. His lip corners turn down. His eyebrows screw in frustration. For once, his posture isn't strong and impervious.
My voice gets soft. "You can run away if you want, but I need to know why."
“There are too many ugly memories.”
I nod. Blake hasn't had an easy life. His father was a horrible, abusive man. Blake had to keep everything together for his mom and his sister, even when he was a little boy. "So you disappear into work?"
He nods.
"Every year?"
Again, he nods.
"And you waited until the twenty-second to drop this on me?"
"School comes first."
I don't know whether I want to hug him or slap him. He really does want my schoolwork to come first. Even before him. Even when he needs me desperately.
My fingers curl into fists. The anger is winning. "So, what, you're totally bailing on Christmas?"
Blake is stone even as he turns to face me. "Celebrate however you want. I won't get in your way."
"I want to celebrate with you."
His voice wavers. "I'm sorry, Kat."
Fuck this. I'm not going to let Blake lock me out. Not over something this important. "No." I press my heel into the hardwood. Only, it's a sock and the floor is just waxed. I slip, landing on my hands and knees.
Blake looks down at me. He smiles, endeared by either my clumsiness or my rejection.
I look up at him. "When is the last time you did anything to celebrate?"
His expression hardens.
"Ten years? More?"
He nods.
"Maybe you'll like it now. If you give it a chance."
He kneels, offering to help me up. I grab his hand but use it to pull him onto the floor with me.
