Pretend It's Love(39)

His mother shook her head solemnly. "I think she's perfect for you."

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Me, too."

"You'd better make it right."

"I know." His eyes returned to the goddess with the red hair. "I've taken stupid to a new level."

"She deserves more than a fake engagement." There was no malice in her voice. "You need to give her anything she asks for."

"No, I'll give her everything." The edges of the ring bit into his palm where he held it tight.

He slipped behind the bar and did what he knew best. He assembled the  cocktail he'd planned on the drive over, combining the orange juice,  champagne, and Libby's basil and orange vodka into a champagne flute. He  cut the peel from an orange so that it curled, just the way he'd done  the first night she came into the bar. Then he threaded the ring onto a  cocktail stick and secured it, with the orange, over the edge of the  glass.

She hadn't yet noticed him as she flitted from guest to guest. She spoke  to a group of young women who typed notes into their phones as she  answered questions, and then they took photos with her and the drinks.

Then he saw her talking with Kirk. He waited for yelling, for tears, or  for one of them storming off. But when she handed her father a drink, he  caught a smile on her lips. Relief. Happiness.         

     



 

Paul waited until she took a moment to breathe, then he left the  cocktail on the bar and went to find her. The crowd was entertained, and  Paul could tell from the arrival of the marshmallow rose martinis that  they were onto the second to last course. He walked up behind her,  taking a moment to admire the curl of her hair down her back, the copper  tones shining against her pink dress.

"How does it feel to be the lady of the hour?"

She spun around, her eyes wide. The color in her cheeks bloomed, and she blinked. "It would feel better if I weren't on my own."

"That's a far cry from the girl who said I wasn't allowed to fall in  love with her." He reached for her hand but she stepped backward.

"Looks like my warning worked a little too well, I think." She pursed her lips. They were the exact shade of pink as her dress.

"Can we talk?"

"The last time I asked you that you looked as though I wanted to give you a lobotomy."

"Perhaps you should have," he said drily. "My head needed fixing."

A ghost of a smile passed over her lips. "I'm in the middle of the biggest night of my life."

"Tiger, this is only the beginning. You're never going to stop lighting up the room."

She sipped her drink and looked away from him. "I told you not to call me Tiger."

"And then you started liking it."

She shook her head, but her cheeks flushed even deeper. "I heard you brought a plus one with you."

"Or perhaps I was the plus one."

Her features softened. "You were always invited. I wanted you to be here."

"Five minutes, that's all I want." He took her hand, and this time she allowed him.

He led her behind the bar. Amongst the other cocktails she didn't notice the one he'd prepared specially for her.

"Tick tock." She tapped her wrist. "I'm working tonight."

"How can I say this succinctly? I've been an asshole."

A smile twitched at the corner of her lips. "So we're in agreement then."

"I lied to you. When you asked me if our relationship was fake, I lied." He drew a deep breath.

"Why?" She fiddled with her necklace, her fingers running over the  pendant swinging on the end of a fine chain. "You made me feel like I  was nothing."

"The thought of losing you was … excruciating."

"But you did lose me-you pushed me away." Her voice shook.

"I thought it would be easier to deal with the pain now than face it  every day." He clenched his jaw, the words sticking in his throat. "I  knew you would leave eventually."

"Why did you think that?"

He didn't answer, but the look on her face told him she understood.

"I'm not her, Paul. She wanted something else, something fictional." She  sighed. "You can't blame yourself for that and, more importantly, you  can't paint me with the same brush."

"I know. You … " He looked her in the eye. "You inspire me, Libby. Every  bit of my speech was about you, about how you made me feel. I was  terrified."

"I terrified you?" She raised a brow.

"You made me feel like I wanted to try again. Like it would be worth the  risk to put myself out there." He stepped closer to her. "I haven't  felt that in a long time."

"Me, either," she whispered. "But you can't back down because you're scared."

"I'm not scared anymore." He touched her cheek, and she closed her eyes.

"That's not enough."

"How about this? I love you, Libby Harris." He forced her face to tilt  up to his. "Look at me. I love you with all my heart. I could not be  more proud of you tonight, of everything you've achieved. You make me  want to be a better person, and I promise you I will work every day to  be the man you deserve."

"I want you to be the man you want to be, not what you think is best for me."

"That's just it, I was what I thought I wanted to be until you came  along. I didn't think there was anything else I had to give, but you  changed that."

Her eyes softened. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"If it means anything, I never wanted to fall in love with you," she  said with a cheeky smile. She touched her hand to his chest and pulled  him closer.

"I'm not sure how that is supposed to make me feel better."

"What I mean is, nothing could have stopped me falling in love with you.  Not logic, not reason, not my stupid ideas about what love means."         

     



 

"Nor mine."

She smiled. "I don't want you to push me away or clam up when things get tough. That's how we're going to stay together."

"I promise." He nodded, a calm washing over him and soothing the pains of the past. "We should celebrate."

"To love?" she asked.

He reached over to the bar and handed her the cocktail. "To marriage."

The ring caught the light, and her mouth dropped open.

"I don't think I've ever seen you speechless before." He held the ring  carefully and unthreaded it from the cocktail stick. "Hold out your  hand, I want to do this properly."

Her hand shaking, she clasped the drink in her right hand and held out  her left. He slipped the ring onto her finger, twirling it so that it  shone in the light.

"Libby Harris, will you marry me?" He held her hand. "For real this time."

"Yes," she said, her eyes shining. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"Don't ever stop calling me Tiger."

"Anything for you."

"I guess this means I can stop looking for a new place to live." She smiled, pressing her cheek against his chest.

The crowd erupted in a raucous cheer as he brought his mouth down to  hers and kissed her deeply, but in that moment it was like they were the  only two people in all the world. The orange and champagne danced on  his tongue as he tasted her, clasping her hand in his, relishing the  feel of the ring on her finger.

"There's half a bed with your name on it, Tiger, and I can't wait to wake up beside you."

"I'm all yours." She grinned and wrapped her hands around his neck, dragging his lips back to hers. "Forever and ever."



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