I twisted my hand up so it caught the light from the window. The ring sparkled like it knew it was the star of the show. A large, oval diamond on a gold band, elegant and just the right side of ridiculous.
“You’re going to regret letting me choose it,” he said, his voice still lazy with sleep, but eyes watching my face.
“I didn’t need a diamond the size of a grape,” I teased, rolling over to face him, tangling my legs into his. “But I should’ve known. You propose in the Maldives and rail me like a man possessed; obviously the ring was going to be obscene. But I adore it. And I love that you chose it.” And I did. He knew I would never have let him buy such an expensive, huge ring if I’d had any sort of inkling. But despite how obscenely priced this sparkler on my finger was, I fell completely in love with it.
His mouth curved. “I meant every word, you know? Still do.” His mouth met mine in a kiss that tasted of forever.
His hand slid under the covers just as a knock sounded at the door. He groaned, dramatically. “Rude.”
“Room service?” I grinned.
“Obviously. You need fuel. Last night was…athletic.”
I chucked a pillow at his face, laughing as he rolled out of bed, gloriously naked and sinfully smug. He tugged on a pair of shorts and crept to the door, muttering something about croissants and orange juice like he hadn’t absolutely ruined me twelve hours ago.
I took a second just to watch him. The tan. The back muscles. The complete lack of shame.
How the hell had this man become mine? He wheeled in a tray piled high with pastries, fruit, juices, and coffee before he climbed back into bed beside me like a golden retriever.
He started loading my plate like he was feeding royalty.
“You’re very smug,” I said, popping a strawberry between my lips.
“I’ve earned it. Put a ring on the woman of my dreams, gave her—what was it? At least three orgasms last night?”
“Jordan,” I groaned, my cheeks flushing.
“And got to wake up with her wrapped around me. It’s a top-tier day, baby.”
I kissed his shoulder, still grinning, then reached for my phone.
Gwen had messaged four times already. That woman had the intuition of a bloodhound. Either that, or she and Jordan had secretly been plotting this and she was in on the whole thing.
I snapped a photo of our hands tangled over the breakfast tray, the ring front and centre, coffee cups in the background, the ocean glittering just beyond the glass doors.
Me: Guess who said yes?
A minute later, Gwen FaceTimed.
“SHOW ME!” she shouted before the screen even loaded.
I held up my hand, and she practically screamed.
Jordan leaned into frame, bare chested and smug. “Morning, Gwenny.”
“You really proposed in theMaldives?” Gwen gaped. “You two are so disgustingly romantic, I could cry.”
I laughed. “I know, right?”
“I’m a lucky bastard,” Jordan said, kissing my temple. “And she’s stuck with me now.”
“Oh, I need that story in full later,” Gwen said. “With details.”
I arched a brow. “You sure you want those kinds of details?”
“Oh, God no. Yuck. Just…the romantic ones. The ring. The speech. The ‘forever’ bit. All of it.” She softened. “I’m so happy for you, babe. You did good, Taylor.”
Jordan squeezed my hand, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t I know it.”
