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“Toanygame,” Romero muttered, obviously still smarting over his tennis loss earlier that day.
Isabella’s family and I were gathered at her mother’s house in Los Angeles for Christmasbirthdaynewyearpalooza, which they’d finally shortened to CBNYP. When I suggested the solution at last year’s celebration, they’d stared at me like I’d sprouted an extra head. Apparently, shortening the ridiculously long name into an acronym had never crossed their mind.
It was my second year celebrating with them, and I was comfortable enough that I no longer held back when it came to our games and activities.
We’d started the day with piano performances in honor of Isabella’s father. She’d played a Chopin piece while I followed it up with the “Hammerklavier.” My rendition had come a long way since the stunning realization that Isabella could outplay me years ago. After much practice, I’d perfected it to the point where even her lolo greeted its conclusion with tears in his eyes.
Isabella insisted I owed my improvement not to practice but to finding the thing I’d been “lacking.”
Heart.
Which was ridiculous. Practice made perfect, not heart. But I kept her close to me anyway.
“What’s next? I don’t think I can stand losing another round to Mr. Vocabularian here,” Clarissa quipped.
In her jeans, tank top, and sandals, she looked wildly different from the pearls and tweed-wearing socialite who’d moved to Manhattan two years ago.
Clarissa and Felix officially started dating not long after Isabella and I got back together. She’d moved to L.A. last year and currently worked at the local museum where he was the artist in residence. Her parents had pitched a fit, but there wasn’t much they could do about it, and California suited her. She seemed happier and more relaxed here than she ever had in New York.
“Darts,” I said, exchanging a quick glance with Felix. “Last game of the day.”
This time, Isabella was the one who groaned. “I’m convinced you’re doing this on purpose,” she said as we walked out to the backyard. “You keep choosing the activities I’m not—oh my God.”
Her steps came to an abrupt halt. She stared, open mouthed, at the sight before her.
With her brothers’ help, I’d replicated the balloon wall from our first unofficial date in Bushwick. We woke up at the crack of dawn that morning to set it up, but it was worth it for the shock on her face.
“How did you do this?” Isabella breathed.
“With an overabundance of caffeine and assistance from your brothers,” I said. “I figured everyone should experience this at least once in their lives. Also, Gabriel is a bigPrincess Diaries 2fan.”
He glared at me from his spot next to the darts. “I’m not afan,” he said. “I enjoy the storyline. That’s all.”
Our rocky relationship had smoothed since he confronted me in the hotel bar two years ago, but we were too similar in too many ways to ever be best friends.
“Sure.” Romero smirked. “That’s why you make us rewatch it every Christmas.”
“I don’tmakeyou do anything,” Gabriel snapped. “I don’t have time for this foolishness. Lola needs my help.” He spun on his heel and marched stiffly to where Isabella’s grandmother was trying to open a jar of salsa.
“It’s not CBNYP if Gabe doesn’t get pissy over something,” Isabella said with a laugh. She went on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss on my mouth. “Thank you for putting up with my family. I know they can be a lot sometimes.”
“I like them. They’re entertaining.” I looped an arm around her waist and grinned down at her. “Besides, you put up with my parents’ vow renewal, so I owe you.”
We both shuddered at the memory.
My parents officially renewed their vows seven months ago in a lavish ceremony on Jade Cay. The ceremony itself had been beautiful; the preparations leading up to it had not. My mother had roped Isabella into helping her and Abigail plan the event, which meantI’dbeen roped into helping with the event. I still had nightmares about tulle and floral designs.
“Quit the PDA. It’s sickening.” Miguel shoved a dart in each of our hands. “C’mon. Let’s get this show going. The sun is about to set.”
Isabella had gotten better at darts, but her aim was still fifty-fifty. I was counting on her skills to fall on the worse end of the spectrum today.
Nerves played beneath my skin as she shifted her stance and drew her arm up. The late afternoon sunlight found her, spinning purple-black silk with gold and etching shadows across her bronzed skin. Her brows furrowed, and despite my anxiety, I couldn’t help but smile at her concentration.
We’d been together for two years, but I would never get over the fact that she was mine.
The dart whizzed through the air and bounced harmlessly off the wall.
Relief wisped through me, followed by a second barrage of nerves.
“Dammit.” Isabella huffed, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil and the way her family slipped back inside the house. “I appreciate you taking the time to set this up. I really do. But next year, youhaveto choose something I’m good at, like a timed shopping spree or reading marathon.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I fished a folded scrap of paper from the jar and handed it to her. A tiny blue dot marked the corner. “In the meantime, here’s your question.”
She sighed and unfolded the slip. “I swear, if I have to talk about my biggest fear again…” Her sentence trailed off.
I’d written what I wanted to say before I said it, and when she looked up from the note, her eyes glossy and mouth trembling, I was already on one knee. A dazzling diamond glittered in the open ring box in my hand.
We’d had to face plenty of tough questions to get to where we were today, but my next question was the hardest and easiest one of all.
“Isabella Valencia, will you marry me?”
