“So do you,” his words hang between us, sharp and cutting.
My smile slips at his accusation, but I catch myself quickly. “Come on,” I say, linking our arms. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”
“Not yet. Come with me.” He leads me across the room to the elevator. He punches the button for the rooftop, we ascend and a few moments later the doors slide open to reveal the starlit sky. “You’re breathtaking,” Calum says as we walk out onto the rooftop, his eyes scanning my face like he’s cataloging me. “Have I told you that tonight?”
“Yes,” I say, teasing. “Twice. But you can tell me again if it makes you happy.”
“It does.” He leans in, his lips brushing my temple. “You make me happy.”
The weight of his words settles between us, heavier than the champagne flute in my hand. He takes the glass from me, sets it aside, and intertwines his fingers with mine.
“Comewith me.”
I don’t question it. I never do with Calum. He leads me through the throng of people, nodding and smiling at those who try to stop him, his grip on my hand firm and possessive. We take the elevator to the rooftop, the hum of the crowd below fading until it’s just us and the distant hum of the city.
The air is cooler up here, the lights of New York spread out like a constellation at our feet. Calum releases my hand and turns to face me, his expression soft and unguarded in a way that makes my chest tighten.
“Calum—?”
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he starts, “and maybe it’s not perfect—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. But I can’t wait anymore, Annabel.”
He pulls out a small velvet box and drops to one knee. The motion is fluid, as though rehearsed, but I know it hasn’t been. He’s too sincere for that.
“I love you,” he says. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, and I’ll keep loving you until—until there’s nothing left of me to love you with. Annabel, will you marry me?”
The ring he holds isn’t ostentatious. It’s modest, understated, a single diamond that catches the rooftop lights and glimmers softly. It’s beautiful, and it’s wrong. It doesn’t belong to the girl I really am, the one he doesn’t see. I think of Brittany and Jonathan, of the twisted way love can ruin you or save you in the span of a breath. I wonder if I have it in me to love with all of my soul, or if I will always be this: wracked with a torturous indecision, skin crawling just when peace and happiness settle in. Calum has made love and art his religion, but I find love is the most painful religion.
“Yes,” I hear myself say. “Yes, Calum.” The word tumbles out before I can stop it, and the look on his face—pure, unfiltered joy—makes me hate myself.
He stands, slipping the ring onto my finger, and pulls meinto his arms. I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in, trying to convince myself this is the right choice. That I can be the person he thinks I am.
But I’m not.
Back in the gallery, the champagne flows more freely than before, the crowd buoyed by the announcement of our engagement. Calum is radiant, his arm around my waist, introducing me to everyone as his fiancée. The word feels foreign, heavy on my skin.
“You have to come for drinks after this,” someone says—a man in an expensive suit who smells like cigars and ambition. “There’s a group heading to The Peninsula. The people there are exactly who you want to meet, Calum.”
Calum hesitates, glancing at me. “I don’t know... Annabel mentioned not feeling well. We might call it an early night.”
I play my part perfectly, laying a hand on his arm and offering a faint smile. “I’ll be fine. You should go. This is important.”
“I’d rather be with you,” he says softly, his eyes searching mine.
“You’ll be with me,” I say, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Tomorrow. Go, Calum. Celebrate.”
He finally agrees, though reluctantly. He flags a cab for me, opening the door and making sure I’m settled inside before leaning in. “Call me if you need anything,” he says. “Anything at all.”
I nod, and he kisses me—a kiss that feels more like a vow. Then the door closes, and I’m alone.
The hotel room is silent when I enter, the luxury almost oppressive. I kick off my heels and pour myself a glass of wine,sinking into the armchair by the window. Outside, the city glitters, alive and endless. It’s everything I thought I wanted, and yet, tonight it feels hollow.
I glance down at the ring on my finger, turning it so the light catches the diamond. It’s perfect, like Calum. And like Calum, it feels like a trap.
I love him, I think. Or at least, I love the idea of him. The artist who sees me as something more, who immortalizes me in his work, who loves me so completely it leaves no room for doubt. But that love is suffocating, a weight I can’t bear.
He doesn’t see me. Not really. He sees what he wants to see—a muse, a partner, a wife. He doesn’t see the cracks, the flaws, the parts of me that don’t fit into his perfect picture.
And Jonathan...
