âMaybe this isnât the best idea,â I say in a rush, my words coming out jumbled.
Beck stops in the middle of the sidewalk. His hand tightens around mine as he pulls me through the crowd of people walking, stopping us in a secure nook between two shops. His eyebrows knit together in a frown. âWhy are you saying this?â
I take a deep breath, wondering if the outfit Iâd picked out was a good idea. Iâd opted for a jumper Iâd got from the shopping spree Iâd had with Beck. Itâs a plaid pattern with black and emerald green details. Underneath, I wear a sheer black bodysuit with a high neckline and have it paired it with a long camel colored trench coat to stay warm in the brisk night air. To cover my legs, I chose a pair of sheer black stockings and a pair of kitten heels. I adore everything about the outfit, so had Emma and Winnie when Iâd spoken to them on FaceTime and asked if it was worthy for meeting the parents. Itâs just now that Iâm moments away from coming face to face to my exâs parents only to tell them Iâm now engaged to their other son, it seems weird. How the hell does one dress for that occasion?
âIâm just worried that the outfit screams Catholic school girl and not billionaireâs wife,â I explain, running my hands down the front.
Beck literally laughs out loud, apparently finding my inner turmoil hilarious.
âBeck,â I whine, adjusting the headband in my hair. âItâs not funny. I just want to look good when meeting the parents of my fiancé to announce to them that weâre engaged.â
His eyes soften as his face becomes serious again. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his warm body. Of course he never has the problem of looking too naive or silly in an outfit. Anything he puts on he looks like a model straight from a catalog. Tonight is no different in a suit that isnât as formal as the ones he wears to work, but one he looks delicious in either way.
âIf weâre being technical, this isnât you meeting them for the first time. So you donât have to worry about first impressions at all. Which even if you did, youâd kill it because you look absolutely breathtakingly beautiful tonight, Violet. Have I not told you that enough?â
I sigh, playing with the zipper of his coat. He had told me I looked beautiful countless times from the time I slipped the outfit on until the moment we stepped out of the car. Iâm just so full of nerves I keep wondering if itâs something heâs just saying to make me feel better.
My nose scrunches. âI think the first impression comment makes me feel even worse.â I crane my neck to look up at him. Heâs so handsome it makes my chest hurt. Every single one of his features are perfect, all things Iâve been obsessed with sketching as of late.
âTrust me. It wonât be weird. Theyâll be excited. Our story seems natural. You worked for me, we were together a lot and then we fell in love. They know my personality. I always go all in when I want something. It wonât seem too far off that we got engaged quickly.â
His fingers brush against my temple tenderly. When he does simple things like this, it makes my heart long for things it shouldnât. Things like I wish this was actually real, that he wasnât known to be so closed off and that we werenât just pretending.
Well at least that he wasnât pretending, I often wonder if Iâve reached the point where I no longer have to fake it.
I think Iâve caught feelings for Beckham Sinclair. Terrifying, massive, powerful feelings. The kind that have overtaken my every thought, every feeling, my entire being. Iâm afraid Iâve done the one thing I told him I couldnât do, allow myself to blur the line. I need to reign myself in some, to have a reality check. Tonight wonât be the night, however, because I need to play the lovesick fiancée to Beck to make it believable. It wonât be that hard, considering itâs not really faking it when it feels so incredibly real.
His indigo eyes search my face. He seems worried. Not about seeing his parents, but maybe itâs the caution in my eyes making him look more apprehensive than normal.
âYouâre not embarrassed to be telling them youâre engaged to me? I hear you couldâve had the pick of an oil or jewelry heiress, not a girl born to a preschool teacher and an electrician.â
He cradles my face in his hands, the leather of his gloves soft against my cheeks. âIâve never been more proud.â
My stupid, pathetic heart cartwheels at his words. It clearly has no idea that his words donât mean what we hope. They couldnâtâ¦
But what if they did?
His stare is so intent, his gaze so deep that not for the first time, I wonder if somehow Beck is falling like Iâm falling. Have things changed for him like they have me? A girl can dream.
âBeck,â I start, needing to tell him that I think I might be falling for him.
He leans down, pressing his lips to my forehead. He does it so often Iâve become used to it. Iâve grown so accustomed to it; it makes me ache to think of the day I wonât feel the press of his full lips above my eyebrow. âShhh,â he says against my skin. âI know, Violet.â
You know what? I want to ask.
Iâm about to do just that when he slides his phone from his pocket, looking down at the name on the screen. I look too, finding his dadâs name glowing on the front. One hand stays on my cheek, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over my cheekbone as he answers the call.
âHey, Dad.â
Thereâs a few silent seconds as he listens to whatever his dad says on the other line. âYeah, weâll be there in a few minutes. Weâre just down the block.â
He hangs up the phone, tucking it back in his pocket before giving me a wide smile.
âIâm nervous,â I admit, the words tumbling from my mouth.
Beck intertwines our fingers once again continuing down our path from earlier. We get so many looks, mostly from women. They watch us with curious envy, like theyâre trying to figure out how I managed to get a man like him to walk down the busy sidewalk with me hand in hand.
âYou have no reason to be.â He comes to a halt, stopping behind a crowd of people as we wait for the light to tell us we can cross the street.
âI have every reason to be, Beck. I wasnât bred to marry into money like every other woman youâve brought home to your family. And I certainly donât think those girls have also met your family when dating your brother.â
âThatâs the thing. Iâve never brought a woman to meet my parents.â
I almost trip over my feet as the group of people cross the crosswalk. The only thing that keeps me up is Beckâs strong grip on my hand. Once weâre safely back on a sidewalk, my face thankfully not against the concrete, I look at him with a stunned expression. âNever?â
We come to a stop in front of the restaurant. He turns to face me, shielding my view from the rest of the world. All I see is him. âNever. Until you. Until now.â
âYeah?â I ask hopefully.
He nods his head confidently. He stares at me like heâs just waiting for me to ask the countless questions running through my head. I hold them back, knowing we donât have the time.
But later, I might feel confident enough to ask himâto hopeâthat maybe this has transpired into something more.
âIâll give you something even better,â he says hoarsely. âIâm excited to tell them about us, Margo. So the next time you find that youâre comparing yourself to other women, donât. Thereâs never been anyone else. Just you.â
He doesnât give me room for further questioning. He pulls me into the restaurant, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as he leads us to the host stand.
âWeâre here for the Sinclair reservation,â he announces smoothly. The hostess looks him up and down with appreciation. I get it. Heâs hot. But she could put her tongue back in her mouth before she drools all over the menus. Itâd be the polite thing to do.
âIâll lead you there.â
Beck thanks her politely, keeping a hold of my hand as weâre escorted to the back of the dining area.
I notice Beckâs parents before they notice us. Thereâs just one minor issue. Itâs not just Beckâs mom and dad at the table. We wonât be announcing our engagement face to face with only his parents.
Weâll also be announcing it to Carterâmy ex-boyfriend and Beckâs brother.
Oh shit.