Page 40 of A Billion Dollar Romance
“Generallythere is a ring inside the ring box,” she said, smiling. “But other than that, yes. Of course you’re right. I just didn’t expect it because–”
“Because we weren’t actually getting engaged.”
“Right,” she nodded. “I thought I’d just get a generic ring from Bridget. Or Lyle.”LylegivingEdiea ring? My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I assumed we didn’t need the actual proposal since it’s just… a story.”
“You had a crush on your professor,” I said, repeating her words back to her. My voice sounded rough even to my own ears. “We reconnected after you graduated, I critiqued your work. I took you out to dinner, asked you to marry me.”
“That’s the story,” she said with a soft little laugh. “Something like that.”
“Something like that,” I agreed. “So don’t be nervous, Edie. In the story, it all works out, doesn’t it?” I glanced over to see her smiling down at her hands, toying with my ring, and my voice was undeniably husky when I spoke again. “Here we are.”
We had arrived at the restaurant. I pulled up to the curb, leaving the car running as I went around to open Edie’s door, lifting her up from the low-slung seat. I paused for a moment on the sidewalk, the car still running and her hand still in mine.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Edie,” I said, and let my gaze linger on her features: warm brown eyes that looked up into mine without guile, despite the story we’d built around ourselves. A straight nose, dusted with a few faint freckles. Pink, pink lips, that felt so perfect under my own, that tasted so sweet. It was only because I was looking so closely that I saw when the corner of those lips twitched up minutely into the barest suggestion of a smile.
CHAPTER20
Edie
He liked it.
“The heart is there, in the central metaphor,” he’d said. “It’s good. You can make it great, Edie.”
I’d let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“And the ending?”
“I think you should rewind a little bit. The narrative gets a little muddy in the last few chapters–”
“After the–”
“Yes, exactly. See, you already know. You have the instinct. You’re a good writer.”
I took a bite of my crème brulée, letting the sugar melt over my tongue.
“Was that so scary?” he asked, lifting his coffee cup from its saucer.
“Hmm, scarier than getting engaged, yes.” I scooped up another tiny, delicious bite. “Not as scary as seeing my one-night stand at the office the next morning,” I said boldly, and was rewarded with the rattle of porcelain on porcelain as he put down his coffee cup a bit too hard.
He recovered quickly.
“Edie,” he said, looking at me across the table.
If the top of my crème hadn’t already been bruléed, it would have been now: his eyes were scorching.
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again,” he said.
Heat pooled at the base of my spine, my heartbeat picking up as my skin warmed.
“No?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, Edie,” he said. “Because when you see me at the office, I won’t be your one-night stand, not any more. I’ll be your fiancé.”
I followed his gaze to the ring on my finger, its facets flickering in the candlelight.
“That’s right,” I murmured.
“So,” he said, and a slow smirk spread across his face. The soft clink of cutlery, the hitch of my breath, sounded loud in my ears. “Do you want to get out of here? Talk about your work, maybe, somewhere a bit quieter?”
