“I want to.”
“You will.” He kissed the top of her head before resting his chin on it. “I’m going to show you everything.”
She put her hands on his and squeezed them, but he didn’t let them stay there for long. That was because Andrew was walking around to the other side of her. And after he gently kissed her, he pulled a small black box out of his jacket and got on one knee.
“Honey,” he started, holding the box in her direction but not opening the lid, “I was in this very spot when I decided I wanted to be a doctor, helping a little girl after she fell down some of the steps.”
Honey’s heart pounded as she watched the emotion on his face, her eyes filling as he paused to take a breath.
“This place right here is what inspired my professional life, and now”—he opened the lid, showing her the diamond inside—“I want it to become the place where I ask you to be my wife.” He took the ring out of the box and held it. “Be with me forever.” He placed it at the tip of her finger. “Tell me you’ll spend every day with me for the rest of your life.”
Tears brimmed over her eyelids. “I want nothing more.” Not waiting for him to get to his feet, she flung her arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Andrew.” As she squeezed him, she heard him chuckle, the sound surprising her. “What’s so funny?”
“You didn’t let me put on the ring.”
Honey laughed and pulled away, giving Andrew her hand again, watching him slide the diamond on her finger. The band was gold and simple with a single pear-shaped stone.
“Forever,” she whispered as she stared at it.
He was on his feet when she hugged him again, and this time, he lifted her into the air and said, “It’s a promise.”
TWENTY-NINE
JARED
THE INVITATION HAD SAID it was a black-tie gala to celebrate the surviving passengers and crew of Flight 88. I knew it was really the airline looking for an opportunity to create good press. Even if they weren’t responsible for the plane going down, having their name linked to a crash wasn’t good for business. This party was the airline’s attempt at putting it all to rest.
What the invite hadn’t said was that the vice president of the United States, the mayor of New York, and several celebrities were going to be there.
It was a fucking media circus.
There was only one reason I had come.
Billie.
I just had to put my eyes on her. Turned out, she was easy to spot, but so was everyone else who had been on our flight that day. We all showed the same physical symptoms—dark circles under our eyes, a short attention span, the fear of our drinks getting too low in a public setting. I could tell who was medicated. They were the ones who could manage a smile.
That was how I knew Billie wasn’t taking anything. The corners of her lips hadn’t lifted once since I got here.
She was on the other side of the room in a black dress, holding a small purse in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other. Even though she was painted up and in heels, she wasn’t the girl I’d sat next to on the plane. The one who could barely let a quiet moment pass between us, who smiled the whole way from the lavatory to her seat. Who had a curvy, sensual body I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
What I was staring at now was a tired, much thinner version, looking completely lost.
Still, I didn’t take my goddamn eyes off of her.
And even though I knew it was dangerous and it was exactly what I’d told myself not to do, I followed her to the restroom when I saw her head that way.
Since I’d worked this ballroom many times before, I knew a faster route, and I entered the hallway through the east side of the room and followed it until I was spit out directly in front of the restrooms.
Billie was several feet away, looking at her feet. She had no idea I was here. She hadn’t seen me; I was sure of that.
“Billie …”
She slowly glanced up, the realization passing across her face. There wasn’t a smile, but her eyes lightened. “Hi.” Her voice was so soft. “I didn’t think you were coming … I mean, I figured you’d have been here by now.”