It’s silent for a second. Two. Three.
Then I scream.
“Yes!” I yell, bouncing on my toes. “Yes, yes, a million times yes!”
The room erupts in cheers, whistles, and applause.
Milo slides the ring onto my finger, then rises to his full height. I launch myself at him before I can second-guess. He catches me effortlessly, his arms banding tight around my waistas I wrap my legs around his hips. The flamingo squeaks between us, making us laugh.
Our mouths crash together in a messy, laughing, desperate kiss—teeth clashing, tongues tangling, pure joy spilling from both of us. His fingers dig into my thighs as the crowd erupts around us.
When we finally break apart, Milo settles me back onto my feet and keeps an arm banded around my waist. I glance down at the ring, watching it sparkle.
“Milo… why does this look like a real ring?”
He chuckles. “Because it is.”
I blink rapidly. “You got me arealring?”
“Mmm,” he hums, tucking a strand of purple wig behind my ear. “I wanted it to be convincing. The gift shop rings were visibly plastic.”
I playfully smack him on the shoulder. “You’d better not have spent a fortune on this. I would’ve been fine with a Ring Pop.”
“Well… then I definitely won’t tell you how much it cost.”
I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at him. “After tonight, you’re taking it back. I’d lose it in five minutes.”
He shakes his head, smiling softly yet firmly. “It’s yours. Forever.”
“Milo—”
“Don’t want to hear it,” he cuts me off, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the stage. “You’re keeping it.”
“But—”
He turns suddenly, nearly making me trip over his feet. “End of discussion.”
I blink. “Did you just?—”
His mouth is on mine before I finish my sentence. The kiss is slower this time, deeper, as if he’s sealing a promise. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark and serious.
With a defeated sigh and a dramatic eye roll, I let him tug me back into the booth, my heart hammering twice as hard as before.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sienna
Hours after the fake proposal,the alcohol has settled warmly in my bloodstream like slow-burning embers.
I’m not obliterated, nowhere near blackout, but I’m loose.
Laughter bubbles up from my chest without effort. My body keeps drifting toward Milo like a magnet—my shoulder brushing his arm, my knee pressing against his under the table. Every time he leans in to murmur something low in my ear, I feel it everywhere.
It feels natural.
Dangerous.
Addictive.
