Noah
I can’t do the beach, white calla lilies and candles. They seemed perfect in my imagination, but now that I’ve told Bobbi, the whole thing would be anticlimactic.
And my brothers agree.
–Emmett: This is why you keep things to yourself!
–Nicholas: I know you can’t keep a secret, but this is…I don’t even know what to say.
–Sebastian: Just buy her extra jewelry.
–Grant: The world doesn’t revolve around diamonds.
–Sebastian: Or around the tango!
I smirk at Seb’s irritation. He’s unhappy because Lucie wants to learn the Argentinian tango with him since she was so impressed after watching Grant and Aspen dance. But Sebastian isn’t the best dancer, certainly not compared to Grant, and his competitive streak can’t stand it.
–Grant: Not my fault I can romance a woman without jewelry. Up your game, bro.
–Nicholas: Anyway, back to Noah’s problem, give her something she’ll love more than diamonds.
Easy for him to say. All he has to do is order a crateful of autographed romance novels to please Molly.
Bobbi is more complicated. And sensitive.
She deserves the world.
So a month after my rather pathetic and impulsive proposal, I head to Bobbi’s Sweet Things one morning. The ambrosial scent of baked goods greets me as I step inside. Bobbi smiles from the counter. “Hey, babe. You’re just in time. Give me a sec.”
She slips into the back, then returns with a croissant. “Came out of the oven ten minutes ago.”
It’s still warm. I kiss her, then take a bite of the pastry and marvel at the incredible light flaky texture. “Perfect. I swear your croissants get better each day.”
“Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere.”
“I have something for you.”
“What?”
“Here.” I hand her the papers.
She looks at them curiously. “This can’t be a prenup. Too thin.”
“Hey, you know I’d never ask you to sign one.”
She laughs. “I’m just kidding. So what is it?” She starts reading. The grin fades, then slips entirely from her face. She gasps, blinks, then squints at the words on the pages. Finally she looks at me. “Did I read it right?I own this building?”
“Yup.” I smile.
“How did you get Floyd to sell?”
“Much as I’d like to take credit here, it wasn’t me. It was Uncle Sam wanting his fair share. Floyd’s been a very bad boy, not paying his taxes on time. He’s going to have to sell the house his mom left him because he also owes the state.” The house I shot up. I don’t mention that detail though. Nor do I mention that Reggie dumped Floyd because she “deserves better,” but her prospects aren’t great. She can’t even hawk diet teas online, not after what my dad did to her.
“Oh my God.” Bobbi stares at the papers again, which tremble in her shaky hands. “I… I was so worried I might not be able to afford the higher rent Floyd was insisting on.”
“Ah, fuck him. Why waste your energy on someone like that when you have me?” I loop my arm around her waist. “Don’t forget. You’ve got a billionaire who’s dying to give you the world. My money is your money.”
“And my money is yours?” she teases through happy tears shining in her eyes.
