Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“I dunno, he looks pretty smitten to me,” Molly says slyly.
“What’s going on?”
Behind me, I hear a voice say, “You are all I’ve ever dreamed of, all I could ever want, Princesse.”
I turn to see Simon on his knee, putting him at eye level with me. I’m in shock, but I don’t think, I just act . . . impulsively. I lunge for him, slamming my lips onto his.
Why?
Because I love him. I don’t know what’s happening, but I will not give up this opportunity for one more kiss. Not for him, but for me—because I want it.
When his tongue demands entrance, I allow it until he sighs into the kiss in relief. That’s when I push him away. “I’m mad at you.”
Molly laughs as she loudly whispers, “You probably should’ve led with that, girl.”
The whirlwind flip of my mood seems to amuse him because Simon smiles in response. “Oui, and I with you.”
“You’re mad at me?” I balk. “What for?”
He lowers his chin, staring at me from beneath his brows. “You know how I feel about you. I made that abundantly clear, repeatedly—”
“So I hear,” Molly says, interrupting Simon.
“Shh! I wanna hear this,” I tell her, waving my hand to shut her up. I think she laughs, but my attention is on Simon, who is still on his knee beside our table.
“Yet, you thought I would kiss Chloe by choice?” He sounds hurt and a bit angry.
“I saw you kiss her back,” I argue defensively.
“What you saw was me trying to not draw attention to her boorish behavior by making a scene, especially when you had told me implicitly that you wanted to stay quiet until after the competition. I was stuck between a rock and a rock, don’t you see?”
“A rock and a hard place,” I correct.
Simon shakes his head. “What you thought was me kissing Chloe was me muttering ‘what the fuck’ as she kissed me.”
I don’t believe him. I know what I saw.
Molly holds up a hand. “Hold, please, it’s buffering. In three, two, one . . . here.” She flips her phone around where she’s pulled up a YouTube video of the fashion show. The scene between Simon and Chloe has been popular, I guess, given that the video has over a million views. I don’t want to watch it again, but Simon lifts my chin, forcing my eyes to the screen.
I focus on Simon’s mouth—the hard press of his lips as he walks down the runway looking like a bad boy, the parting of his lips in surprise as Chloe plants one on him, and then the movement of his lips as he kisses her back.
“Wait, rewind that.”
Molly rewinds the video, and I watch as Simon’s lips, mid-kiss, say ‘what the fuck’, and then an instant later, the kiss is over. I can’t see Simon’s face as they walk back, but I can see the muscles in his back popping and the way his hand is clenched before he forcefully relaxes it.
“I didn’t believe him either when he begged for my help,” Molly tells me. “Hung up on him three times before Tobias got me to watch the video, which I then went over with a detective-level, fine-toothed comb before agreeing to help this idiot.”
I look from Molly to Simon, Simon to Molly, and realize that they’ve conspired to get me here tonight for this. The Times Square billboard, both of them in New York, the apology . . . like it’s all some grand gesture.
Wait . . . the apology.
“You haven’t apologized yet,” I say sternly.
Simon meets my eyes, cupping my chin as though he can’t not touch me. “I am sorry that I hurt you. My intention is only to love you, worship you, and make you happy.” Honesty shines in his eyes, and to someone at another table, it must appear that he’s proposing because someone says ‘aww’ and then I can feel eyes on us.
I test my heart to see if it’s enough, but my heart shouts back to grab onto Simon and never let go, and to be quick about it before someone else swoops in to snatch him away. Not that anyone could. “Accepted.”
A clap sounds out around us, and I start to explain that we’re making up, not getting engaged, but Simon stands and takes my hand to lead me to my feet as well.
“Let’s see the rock,” someone shouts.
My eyes widen, and Simon smirks, holding up his outstretched palm. I look down and see my necklace. No rock necessary. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see this again,” I confess.
“I had to get it repaired, but it’s yours. It always will be.”
He doesn’t turn me around to put it on my neck, but rather, reaches around me to clasp the necklace into place. As I tilt my head to give him better access, I see the chain around his neck too, right where it belongs. I reach up to trace the line of it against his warm skin.