The Design(93)

I shook my head in disbelief and then stepped up to the sign to get a closer look. The Cole Designs logo was printed at the very bottom, but above that, there was a small gold plaque.



“The winning design for this municipal park project was contributed by:

Cameron Heart, Associate Architect, Cole Designs.”



“Holy shit,” I whispered as tears began to slide down my cheeks. The competition was open to every architecture firm in California. The committee must have received hundreds of submissions, yet my name was printed on the plaque. I’d won.

“And before you ask,” Grayson said, stepping up to meet me in front of the sign. “I had no hand in who won the competition. The panel of judges had no clue who you were. They chose your design because it was the best. You won this on your own, Cammie. You’re a damn good architect and you deserve recognition for your work. Please know that anything I did to help you along the way was nothing compared to the things you managed to do all on your own.”

I nodded and kept my hand pressed to my mouth in an attempt to conceal the fact that I was all but hysterical.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I said, turning to wrap my arms around him.

My face smashed against his chest, his cologne enveloped me, and he held me there as I cried tears of joy. Every single failure I’d endured in the last few months was nothing compared to that moment. Paris, Alan, Hannah—nothing mattered in that moment because I’d made it on my own. I was going to be the designer of a major multimillion-dollar park.

“There is one thing… since you aren’t a licensed architect yet, I have to supervise the build, but I won’t make any decisions without you by my side.”

I leaned back so I could meet his eye. “Does that mean I have my old job back?”

He smiled. “I was actually thinking of something better,” he said and then he slowly slid down to the ground, holding his weight up on one knee.

What? WHAT?

“Grayson! What are you doing?!”

“If you change your name to Cameron Cole, then that would technically make you a partner in my company, right?”

“Grayson!” I exclaimed as he pulled a small, simple gold band from his pocket. It was delicate and thin, understated and unique.

“I let you leave me once, Cammie. I let you leave and I had no choice but to watch you board that plane to Paris. I let you go because I thought that’s what you wanted, but now I’m going after what I want, and I want to marry you. I want you by my side in life and in business. You’re a visionary, Cameron. I admire your drive and tenacity. I admire your passion and determination. If you want to go back to Paris, we’ll go to Paris. We’ll live wherever you want, just as long as we’re together.”

I laughed at the idea of us living in Paris, but Grayson took it the wrong way. His smile faded for a moment as he processed the fact that I’d just laughed at his proposal.

“No! Grayson. Wait, not ‘no’ to the proposal. Yes! Yes, to that.”

He smiled as I tried to unscramble my speech.

“But no, we cannot live in Paris. We’ll stay in LA and we’ll oversee the building of my park. Paris held nothing for me without you there.”

He grinned.

“So is that a yes?”

I laughed. “That’s a hell yes.”

He slipped the delicate ring on my finger, stood up, and kissed me. I lifted up onto my tiptoes and wrapped my hands around his neck. It’d been two months too long since our last kiss. I’d been so wrong about leaving. I thought I needed to leave behind the people I depended on so that I could learn to stand on my two feet, but Grayson had proven to me that I could do it all on my own, right from where I was. Sure, Grayson would probably still try to be controlling and Brooklyn would always worry, but I’d tell them how I felt, we’d adjust, and they’d give me room to grow.





After I managed to stop crying and my face was a little less blotchy, Grayson and I stood in front of the sign and snapped a photo of our smiling faces with my ring on full display.

When we got back in the car, I stared down at the photo. It was hardly the best photo I’d ever taken, but I’d never seen myself look happier than I did right then. Grayson and I were wrapped around one another and our cheeks were crushed together so that our giant smiles were slightly lopsided. Since Grayson had attempted to snap the photo himself, our foreheads were, of course, cut off, but Grayson’s eyes were in focus and there were tears hovering in the corners. My cheeks were flushed and the wind had whipped my hair all over the place. I’m sure a photographer would have balked at the execution, but the emotion? The love? It was right there, plain to see.