“Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Yeah. So, do you remember that afternoon at my apartment when you made your kick-ass chili and we danced to ‘Love Shack’?” he asked walking to her, looking pensive.
“That was such a great day! I can’t believe you remember it.”
“I told you in Paris—I remember every moment I spent with you.” Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper, then sat beside her. “We made a promise then, and now that I no longer have a fiancée, I’d like you to consider entering a marriage pact with me ... now.” His warm smile touched his eyes and lit his face and she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Marriagepact? Oh, I remember that.” She bit her lip, wanting to shout, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
William chuckled. “Yes,marriage, but this contract isn’t anything like the two-hundred-and-seventeen-page one between Caroline and me. It’s much more important and way more specific to us and what we share.”
“Oh, like a pre-nup? William, you know I don’t want your money. There’s no need for something like that between us.”
“There is. Will you at least read it and see if it meets with your approval?”
She’d never considered that a pre-nup to the Darcy fortune would be “a thing” between them, but he was a billionaire, after all. Her hand trembled when she took the paper from him. “I’ll just sign it. I don’t need to read it. I trust you.”
“Please, read it.”
Opening it up, she smiled at the Pemberley Capital letterhead and his neatly printed writing in capital letters:
Fitzwilliam Darcy’s Marriage Pact
with Elizabeth Bennet
I pinky swear …
To love you always—gently and fiercely, in equal measure.
To be your safe harbor, your biggest fan, and your softest landing.
To laugh with you in the light and hold you close in the dark.
To paint each day beside you in magnificent color and brilliance.
To always choose you—in every version, every season, every trial, and every joy.
To make this life beside you a love story, every single day.
To keep this pinky promise forever—sealed in my heart with all that I have
She looked up from the heartfelt, absolutely adorable document, teary eyes falling on the Tiffany blue box cradled in his hands. Kneeling, he opened the box to a stunning platinum, princess-cut diamond ring, glittering in the sunlight.
“I love you so much, Lizzy. I offer you my heart and hand in marriage. Please accept them and never let go—forever.”
Her cheeks hurt from smiling, heart bursting. “Yes! Absolutely!”
“It’s about damn time,” he laughed, sliding the ring on her finger.
He swept her into his arms, pulling her off the bench onto him, then kissed her smiling lips until they fell to the ground laughing.
THIRTY-ONE
Wednesday, July 9
Taylor pulled up in front of a gorgeous limestone mansion on 78thStreet in the tony Metropolitan Hill section of Manhattan, and William grinned like a little boy at Christmas. Filled with pride, he said, “Well, babe, this is it. Our new townhouse.”
Looking out the window, she craned her head to admire the five stories, then awkwardly laughed. Stunningly impressive. She expected a residence in a skyscraper, not an actual Gilded Age, five-story mansion a half block from Fifth Avenue and Central Park! The tree-lined street was picturesque and quiet. “Wow, William! Wait until Big Tom sees this. He might actually like big city living after all,” she joked, knowing full well that her father wouldn’t come to Manhattan again and that she’d likely not see him again.
