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“I saw you kiss her back,” I argue defensively.
“What you saw was me trying to not draw attention to her boorish behavior by making a scene, especially when you had told me implicitly that you wanted to stay quiet until after the competition. I was stuck between a rock and a rock, don’t you see?”
“A rock and a hard place,” I correct.
Simon shakes his head. “What you thought was me kissing Chloe was me muttering ‘what the fuck’ asshekissedme.”
I don’t believe him. I know what I saw.
Molly holds up a hand. “Hold, please, it’s buffering. In three, two, one... here.” She flips her phone around where she’s pulled up a YouTube video of the fashion show. The scene between Simon and Chloe has been popular, I guess, given that the video has over a million views. I don’t want to watch it again, but Simon lifts my chin, forcing my eyes to the screen.
I focus on Simon’s mouth—the hard press of his lips as he walks down the runway looking like a bad boy, the parting of his lips in surprise as Chloe plants one on him, and then the movement of his lips as he kisses her back.
“Wait, rewind that.”
Molly rewinds the video, and I watch as Simon’s lips, mid-kiss, say ‘what the fuck’, and then an instant later, the kiss is over. I can’t see Simon’s face as they walk back, but I can see the muscles in his back popping and the way his hand is clenched before he forcefully relaxes it.
“I didn’t believe him either when he begged for my help,” Molly tells me. “Hung up on him three times before Tobias got me to watch the video, which I then went over with a detective-level, fine-toothed comb before agreeing to help this idiot.”
I look from Molly to Simon, Simon to Molly, and realize that they’ve conspired to get me here tonight for this. The Times Square billboard, both of them in New York, the apology... like it’s all some grand gesture.
Wait... the apology.
“You haven’t apologized yet,” I say sternly.
Simon meets my eyes, cupping my chin as though he can’t not touch me. “I am sorry that I hurt you. My intention is only to love you, worship you, and make you happy.” Honesty shines in his eyes, and to someone at another table, it must appear that he’s proposing because someone says ‘aww’ and then I can feel eyes on us.
I test my heart to see if it’s enough, but my heart shouts back to grab onto Simon and never let go, and to be quick about it before someone else swoops in to snatch him away. Not that anyone could. “Accepted.”
A clap sounds out around us, and I start to explain that we’re making up, not getting engaged, but Simon stands and takes my hand to lead me to my feet as well.
“Let’s see the rock,” someone shouts.
My eyes widen, and Simon smirks, holding up his outstretched palm. I look down and see my necklace. No rock necessary. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see this again,” I confess.
“I had to get it repaired, but it’s yours. It always will be.”
He doesn’t turn me around to put it on my neck, but rather, reaches around me to clasp the necklace into place. As I tilt my head to give him better access, I see the chain around his neck too, right where it belongs. I reach up to trace the line of it against his warm skin.
“Oh, one of those things,” a voice says knowledgeably.
I don’t feel any need to explain what this means to Simon and me. I know that these necklaces signify our love, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or knows about it.
It’s for us.
“All right, I’m feeling a bit third-wheelish now,” Molly says, drawing my attention. “You two go on and celebrate doggy style.Menage e troiswith my bestie has never been my thing. I’m going to eat my weight in cheese, drink another sangria, and then go upstairs to collapse. Jet lag is a bigger bitch than Jaqueline. I’ll probably order a huge room service breakfast in the morning, too.” She looks at Simon as she says that, and I ping-pong between them again in confusion until she explains, “I’m here on Money Bags’s dime. I’m staying in style tonight—king-size bed, private balcony, view of Times Square. I’m not as easy as you are.” She says it with a grin, and I know there’s something else she’s about to add. “Probably because I didn’t get the whole three-plus orgasm treatment in Paris.”
Simon looks at me with wide eyes. “What all did you tell her?”
“Noteverything,” I say pointedly.
But that only makes Molly more curious. “We’ll come back to that another time. For real, get out here, you lovebirds. Go smack each other’s asses or something.”
She waves her hand, dismissing us, but before I go, I lean down and give her a big hug. “Thanks. For everything.”
As Simon leads me out of the lounge, I hear Molly behind us shout, “One round of champagne for everyone in honor of love!” There’s a cheer around us as people raise their glasses at us as we make our escape.
Outside, I laugh. “You know she’s going to put that on your tab, right?”
Simon shrugs. “You own my heart, but I fear Molly has her hands on my wallet until she checks out of the hotel.”
He flags down a taxi and tells the driver an address I don’t know. When I look at him curiously, he explains, “There’s something I want to show you.”
I laugh. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line, now that we’re in my city? It’s my turn to show you around.” Simon puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes, and I realize what he means. “Oh, did you mean you want to show me your dick?”
I forget to ask more questions because Simon weaves his hand into my hair, gripping it tightly by my scalp, and kisses me passionately. Suddenly, New York City seems like the best place ever, as long as I can stay at Simon’s side.
