I looked up in alarm, but as usual, was unable to tell if he was joking.
Needless to say, the “family affair” was a great success. My mom and Marcus finally broke through the initial stranger awkwardness and had an actual in-depth conversation about something other than the wedding, I decided I thoroughly approved of Barry, and I was pretty sure that by the time we’d finished dessert, Max had commissioned at least one painting.
Everything was going really great until we were saying goodbye. I’d followed my family and Barry out to the driveway to see them off, but when I got back inside, I accidently stumbled upon Marcus and Augustina having a serious, private conversation. Not wanting to interrupt, I hovered awkwardly in the hall, keeping out of sight as she took both his hands in her small, wrinkled ones.
“I want you to have this.” She took something from deep in her pocket and pressed it into his palm. “It was mine. When I married your grandfather.”
Marcus’ breath caught in his chest, and he gently tried to give it back. “Grandma, no. I couldn’t. This should stay with you—”
“It has been in our family for generations, and it’s time it got passed along,” she insisted firmly. “I’ve seen you with a lot of girls, Marcus. Far too many girls—truth be told. But I’ve never seen you look like this. She’s the one for you. It’s ob
vious to anyone with half a brain. And if that’s the girl you’ve fallen in love with—then that’s who I want to wear this ring. I won’t hear another word about it.”
“Grandma please—”
“Just think about it.” She closed his fingers gently over the ring. “With my blessing.”
She stroked him fondly on the cheek and left with an over the shoulder, “Happy Thanksgiving.” I stayed carefully out of sight until the door closed, watching as he glanced down at the sparkling diamond, his face unreadable.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he murmured.
I couldn’t sleep again that night. Whether it was the excitement of the day or the fact that I’d—rather ironically—gotten a bit of a sunburn, I tossed and turned back and forth until finally getting to my feet. Falling into the same routine as the previous night, I found myself heading quietly to the stairs, searching for a cup of hot chocolate to ease my nerves. But as I walked past Marcus’ room, I found myself pausing at the top of the stairs.
What are you doing, Bex? Hasn’t the day been emotional enough?
But I truly couldn’t help myself. And for the first time, I ventured down the hall and knocked softly on Marcus’ door.
“Marcus,” I whispered, “are you awake?”
When I got no reply, I pushed open the door a crack, peering in at the unmade bed. That was odd. I was sure I’d seen him go in there. I ventured in another step, hair blowing past my face as I looked out the open window. He couldn’t be…could he?
Silent as a ghost, I stuck my head out through the frame. Sure enough, Marcus was sitting on the roof of the patio, dangling his legs over the edge as he stared up at the sky. It could have been a postcard. Or the cover of some undiscovered Fitzgerald novel. A beautiful man lost in thought.
I climbed out after him without a second’s pause, silently praying that the tiny roof would hold our combined weight. I shouldn’t have worried. When I was about halfway across, he looked up with a start. His face softened when he saw me, and he patted the tiles next to him. I sat down without a word, and together, the two of us stared out at the sky.
The air was warm and smelled strongly of the flowers growing just below in the garden. I took a huge sniff, and without thinking, slipped my hand into his. His eyes flickered down for a second before he stared up again with a little sigh.
“What’s the matter?” I asked softly, wondering at his pensive expression.
A faint smile ghosted across his face as the breeze swept his hair back off his forehead.
“I’m not ready for all this to end.”
The confession took me by surprise. But what surprised me even more was my reply.
“Neither am I.”
It was true. Somewhere, in the midst of pretending to fall for a billionaire, I had started actually falling. There was no point in denying it. No reason to act like it was anything other than what it was.
A real relationship.
With a soft sigh, I leaned my head against his shoulder. His arm came up around me, and he held me tight against his chest, resting his cheek against my hair.
“Are you cold?” he asked after a while, rubbing the side of my arm.
I shook my head, staring out at the oversized moon resting on the distant waves. It was like a whole different world up here. A place where everything else simply fell away, leaving you to quietly ponder where the hell you stood in this disjointed, fantastical universe. We sat and talk for an hour when suddenly he went quiet.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked softly, after sitting quietly for a long while.