That’s enough of that.
I clap the tech bro on the shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Feel free to call my office next week to set up a meeting.” I’m not interested, but it’s the easiest out, with the added bonus that it doesn’t make me look insane.
I step forward, my hand sliding around Camryn’s waist, and without a glance at the men leering at her, I pull her toward the dance floor. She leans into me, all warm and soft and mine.
“Jake,” she breathes, looking up at me.
“Dance with me.”
She blinks, her lips parting, and I already know what she’s going to say. That it’s not a good idea, that we’ve already attracted too much attention, but I bend down and give her a quick, firm kiss on the lips to silence her argument. I lead her to the center of the dance floor, where a few other couples sway to the slow, romantic jazz standard. I pull her against me, one hand on the small of her back, the other cradling her hand against my chest.
She’s trembling slightly, and I can feel the weight of the evening pressing down on her. The stares, the whispers, Eleanor’s obvious (and correct) assumption about just who Cammie is to me.
“You’re shaking,” I say softly, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Are you okay?”
She lets out a rough exhale, then laughs softly. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I feel…on edge. Unnerved. Like I want to be here, with you, but I also don’t belong.”
“You feel like you don’t belong because you’re in a room full of vultures pretending to be civilized people, and you’re not like that. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” Electricity goes through me as I say the words. They make me feel energized, alive. “And you handled Eleanor perfectly.”
Her fingers tighten around mine as we move to the music. “She was awful. And she totally knew. About us. About me.”
“If not this, Eleanor would’ve found something else to crucify us for.” My voice is low, firm. “She doesn’t get to decide what’s right or wrong for us.”
Camryn tilts her head back, her eyes searching mine. “But what if people think it’s wrong that your former stepdaughter is your girlfriend?”
“Stop.” I cut her off, squeezing her hand gently. “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care if they whisper or judge or call us names. The only thing I care about is you. The only thing that matters is how I feel when I’m with you.”
Her breath stutters and she bites her lip. “And how’s that?”
“Like I finally have something worth living for.” My hand slides up her back, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of her neck. “Like I’d burn the whole fucking world down just to have you. Keep you.”
Her eyes glisten as she looks up at me. “I love you, Jake. But I don’t want being your girlfriend to cost you—“
“What if you weren’t just my girlfriend?” The words spill out before I can stop them. “What if you were my wife?”
Her eyes widen, and her lips part in shock. “What?”
“I’m tired of secrets, Cammie.” I lift my hand, and my thumb brushes her cheekbone, tracing the rosy flush spreading across her skin. “I’ll buy you a ring tomorrow. I’ll stand in the middle of this goddamn ballroom and tell everyone you’re mine. No more hiding.”
She stares at me, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. “You can’t just—you can’t say things like that. Jake. You can’t mean it.”
“Why not?” I lean down, my forehead resting against hers. “It’s the truth.”
A shaky laugh escapes her, her fingers curling into the fabric of my jacket. “You’re insane.”
“Quite possibly. I often feel like I’m losing my mind around you.” I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. “But I’m serious.”
She doesn’t answer, not with words. Instead, she presses closer, her body melting against mine as we sway to the music. The emeralds at her throat catch the light with every movement, and my mind’s already whirling with what kind of ring I’m going to buy her.
I think back to the last time we danced like this, years ago in my living room. She was just a girl then, heartbroken and lost, and I was the man who held her together. I loved her then, in a way that was careful, controlled. But this—this is different. This love hungry and possessive and all consuming.
“I want to marry you, Cammie. I want to give you everything I have. I want to have a family and a life with you. This isn’t the proposal I envisioned, but you need to know how I feel. You’re not just some dirty fling. You’re not a taboo hookup, a secret I’m ashamed of. I love you. And love doesn’t belong in the shadows. It belongs out in the light, for everyone to see.”
Now she’s crying in my arms, right in the middle of the dance floor, clinging to me, shaking, nodding.
“Yes, Jake. I’ll marry you. We’ll shock the world,” she adds with a small giggle.
“My little secret no longer.”
