Only Ever Yours

He chuckles. “I did, but only because we have reservations for lunch. After sleeping for damn near eight hours, I imagine you’re hungry. I know I am.”

“I am,” I admit. “For you.” I stand on my tiptoes and nip the corner of his jaw teasingly.

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, unwinding my arms and stepping back. “Today’s your birthday and I want to spoil you.”

“And you totally can… in bed.” I waggle my brows.

He shakes his head and pecks my lips. “Later.”

We change into different clothes—him in a pair of khaki shorts, a powder blue collared shirt, and boat shoes, and me in a flowy palm print maxi dress and white strappy sandals Isaac bought me for the trip—then head down to the restaurant. We’re on the same floor as Noah, but we have our own suite. The second we arrived, he wished me a happy birthday then disappeared.

We’re seated at a table outside, under a gazebo that’s sandwiched between the luxurious pool and the gorgeous blue sea. There are people lounging in daybeds, boats sailing in the water, and a few swimming in the pool. The entire scene looks like something straight off a website, and I realize that while my father made a good living and we never wanted for anything, Isaac’s amount of wealth is on a whole different level. My parents did trips to ski resorts and once went to Paris, but Isaac flies on his private jet to an entirely different country for the weekend like it’s no big deal.

He has so much to offer, while I bring nothing to the table.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, snapping me from my thoughts.

“You and me.” When he doesn’t say anything, I further explain. “I can’t help but feel like we have a little bit of a Pretty Woman thing going on.”

“A what?”

“Pretty Woman. Richard Gere and Julia Roberts. You’ve never seen the movie?”

“Can’t say I have.”

The waiter comes over and Isaac orders us a bottle of water as well as a bottle of white wine he swears is one of Monte Carlo’s best. When he asks if I want an appetizer, I tell him to surprise me. So he orders a bunch of items from the menu and then turns his attention back on me.

“Now, tell me about this pretty woman, who I doubt could be compared to you.”

I laugh at his flirting. “They meet by mistake. She’s a poor prostitute and he’s a gazillionaire businessman.”

His brows dip in confusion. “That’s nothing like us. One, you’re not a prostitute. You were a fake escort for less than a second. And two, I’m not a gazillionaire. Not even close to a billionaire.”

“You know what I mean.” I roll my eyes. “He’s rich and she’s poor. He whisks her away from her shitty life and spoils her rotten, all while falling in love with her, and her with him.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No… yes… I don’t know.” I sigh in frustration. “I love the movie. I’ve seen it a dozen times. It’s romantic and sweet, and I’m sure most of the women who watched it wished for a man like him to save them… even if they weren’t poor or a prostitute. But now that I’m in a similar situation I can’t help but wonder how many people looked at her and thought she was weak and should’ve tried harder to save herself instead of letting him save her.”

He nods in understanding. “I don’t care what we look like to the outside world, and I sure as hell don’t give a shit what anyone thinks or says. Yes, you were struggling when we met, but I guarantee had I not met you or asked you to move in, you would’ve found a way to survive. It’s one of the things I love about you. You’re strong as hell, Cam, and yeah, you had a bad hand dealt to you, but you were handling it. Playing that hand of cards the best you could.

“I haven’t seen that movie, but I would bet, if you’re comparing them to us, she was strong and beautiful and maybe even a little bit of a hot mess…” He winks playfully. “And he fell in love with her, just as she was. It wasn’t about the money, it was about the moments, the chemistry. The way they knew how they felt about the other person.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“I do,” he insists, reaching over and threading his fingers through mine. “Yes, our situations are the reason why we met, but that’s called fate. I’ve been going through life, barely living, definitely not loving, until you stepped out of that building.” He swallows thickly and backs his chair up. I’m confused, thinking he’s getting up, until he instead drops down… on one knee.