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“But my name isn’t Westerhaven,” I settle on, my tone sufficiently dry.
David hesitates for a moment and leaves the bed. Uh, is he upset I vetoed his name? I watch as he grabs something from his suitcase and slides back into bed. When he places the small black velvet jewelry box on the pillow next to my hand, I forget to breathe.
“It could be,” he says softly, his eyes burning into mine. My eyes dip to the box and tears form in my eyes. It could be Westerhaven. My name could be Westerhaven. That’s what he’s saying. I think that might be a ring. For me. From David. Oh my god, I need to breathe.
David reaches over, opening the box so that I can see the incredible ring nestled there. It’s so shiny. I know a little bit about jewelry. I worked in a jewelry store when I was in high school, and one of my design assignments in college was to design a website for an imaginary jewelry company. For some reason, as I stare at the ring that David bought me, all my training from all those years ago comes flooding back and I assess the ring like it’s not for me. Double pink diamond floats through my mind. Diamond halo, pear cut. It’s about the mostgorgeous ring that I’ve ever seen. Tearing my eyes away from it, I gasp as my eyes dart back to David’s face, earnestness shining there.
“What are you saying?” I ask at last, uncertainty coloring my tone.
“That I want you in my life,” he replies promptly, sounding like he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. “That I need you. That I want to marry you.”
He pushes the box toward me like an eager puppy and my tears finally spill over my cheeks as I pluck the ring out of the box, studying it again. The diamonds sparkle in the soft light of my lamp.
“Put it on,” David whispers. Now he sounds uncertain. Nothing like the arrogant, cocky David I know.
Obediently, I slide the ring onto my finger and my heart clenches at the contented sigh that David lets out. Glancing over at him, his eyes are fixed on the ring that I’m now wearing on my finger.
“Perfect,” he whispers, his eyes moving up to lock on mine. “Just like you.”
I blush deeply, blinking away more tears. He moves closer, his hungry lips finding mine as he rolls on top of me.
“You still have to say yes,” he mutters against my mouth, and I almost giggle at the ridiculousness of it all. Of course I’m going to say yes. David wants to marry me. What else would I say?
“Yes,” I whisper against his lips and he groans. His fingers slide through my hair as he tilts my head backward in order todeepen the kiss, his tongue licking into my mouth. He moves between my legs, and I widen them, sighing when he sinks into me. There are sparkles on the ceiling, being thrown around by my incredible ring. I don’t know how my life could get any more perfect.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Anica
I look around the private jet interior, catching David’s eye as he grins at me. “Am I ever going to get a ride onyourprivate jet?”
“This was an unscheduled visit. I flew commercial.”
“First class?”
“Of course.”
I snort at his earnestness. At least he’s not pretentious about it. Oh my god. This is my life now. Private jets. Exclusive views of Central Park from my hot tub. Pinch me, I’m dreaming.
“Are you sure you didn’t want to stay in Chicago a bit longer? You were only there for two days.”
He snorts, eyeing the clouds out the window. “It’s a bit late to make that call. We’re not even still over Illinois.”
“Well. Yeah. But still. Are you sure?”
David shrugs, sipping his whiskey with a grin. “It only took two days to accomplish everything in Chicago that I wanted to.”
“Everything?” I arch a brow, picking up my champagne flute. Seriously, this is the way to travel.
“Yeah. Everything. I’ve convinced you to move to New York with me. I convinced you to marry me. I saw Uncle Bill, and I even had lunch with my parents.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell them you were engaged.”
I still don’t know how to feel about that. He saw themthe next day. Why wouldn’t he tell them? David catches the uneasy frown on my face and covers my hand with his own, squeezing reassuringly.
“Stop overthinking it. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell them. Trust me, I’m dying to shout it from the rooftops. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“So…?”
