The memory of our first kiss floods in. We were nineteen, sprawled on the dunes behind her family’s summer house on Ravensreach Point. The wind had whipped her hair into a wild halo, and her laughter like the tide, pulling me under.
“You’re going to be famous,” she’d said then, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm. “And when you are, I’ll be right there beside you. Your muse.”
It had felt like a promise. But now, under the lights of the gallery, with Jonathan’s shadow looming and Annabel’s words slipping like smoke through my fingers, I wonder if it was just another one of her games.
By the time the night ends, the gallery is empty save for a few lingering patrons and the staff clearing away glasses and plates. Annabel perches on the edge of the bar speaking to one of my biggest supporters, sipping the last of her champagne, her heels dangling from her fingers.
“Mind if I steal my muse for a while?” The man raises his glass in good humor, retreating with a nod.
“Did you have fun?” I ask.
She tilts her head, considering. “It was perfect. They all loved you, Calum. Loved your work.”
“And you?”
She smiles, slow and deliberate. “I always love your work.”
The words should soothe me, but they don’t. There’s a weight to them, a finality that presses against my chest like a stone. Jonathan’s words echo in my head:You’ll never own her.
As if sensing my thoughts, she slides off the bar and comes to stand in front of me, her gaze steady. “Don’t let Jonathan get in your head,” she says softly. “He thrives on chaos.”
“So do you,” I say, and the words hang between us, sharp and cutting.
For a moment, her mask slips, and I catch a glimpse of something raw and unguarded beneath. Then she smiles again, bright and unbothered, and the moment is gone.
“Come on,” she says, linking her arm through mine. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
“Not yet. Come with me.” The gallery’s hum fades as I close the rooftop door behind us, the heavy thud cutting off the distant murmur of voices. Out here, it’s just the balmy night air and the stars, the city below a dim blur of restless lights. Annabel steps ahead, her black dress catching the faint glow of the moon, a ripple of silk against the night.
“You’re breathtaking, have I told you that tonight?”
“Yes,” she says, teasing. “Twice. But you can tell me again if it makes you happy.”
“It does.” I brush a kiss to her temple. “You make me happy. Come with me.”
“Calum—?”
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” I cut in, my heart hammering against my ribs. “And maybe it’s not perfect—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. But I can’t wait anymore, Annabel.”
Her lips part, and for once, she’s silent. The wind pressesagainst us, and the world seems to hold its breath as I drop to one knee.
I don’t have some sparkling monstrosity in a velvet box. That’s not what this is. What I hold up to her is simple—a gold band with a single diamond, modest but solid. Real. Like the life I want with her.
“I love you,” I say, the words breaking free, raw and unpolished. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you almost seven years ago, and I’ll keep loving you until—” My throat tightens. “Until there’s nothing left of me to love you with. Annabel, will you marry me?”
For a moment, there’s only the wind and the faint sound of New York City below. Her expression is unreadable, her eyes searching mine as though trying to decide if I’m serious.
Then she smiles—a real smile, not the coy, practiced one she wears like armor. She drops to her knees, her hands cradling my face.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Yes, Calum.”
Relief crashes over me, and I pull her into my arms, the ring still clutched in my hand. She laughs, the sound brighter than I’ve heard it in months, and when she kisses me, it’s like the world tilts on its axis.
“I didn’t expect this,” she says when we pull apart, her fingers tracing the curve of my jaw. “Not tonight. Not like this.”
“I couldn’t wait,” I admit, sliding the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel like I’m chasing her. She’s here, with me, real and solid and mine.
She looks at the ring, tilting her hand to catch the light.
