Page 140 of The Boss Upstairs
His words steal my breath away. I want to tell him I love him too, but I just can’t speak.
“I know it may sound crazy,” he goes on. “It’s only been six weeks. But when I know, I know. I don’t fall often,” he explains. “But when I do, I fall hard.”
My mouth hangs open, completely useless.
“I’ve only fallen in love three times in my life,” he tells me. “I know exactly what it looks like, what it feels like. And this is it, Gretchen. It’s unmistakable.”
“Weston…” is all I manage to say.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you and Ethan,” he continues, and there’s so much emotion in his eyes, it scares me.
“You made me love again, Gretchen,” he goes on. “Mirella and I broke each other’s hearts, and I never thought I’d be able to love again. I’d completely given up. And then you showed up.”
I can’t take all this in. It’s too much. I can’t hold the tears. I completely crumble.
He kisses me softly, the taste of my tears salty on our lips.
This kind of love is worth the risk. I can’t be afraid anymore. I need to believe, and let myself fall into it. I pull myself from his grip.
“I… I love you too, Weston,” I finally manage. “So much, it scares me to death. I’ve been so afraid.”
He takes my hand and kisses the pads of my fingers. “Afraid of what?”
“Afraid that you didn’t care about me as much as I did about you. Afraid that you would break my heart. And Ethan’s too.”
His face falls. “Oh, Gretchen… I could never,” he says softly. “I could never hurt you and Ethan. Not in a million years.”
He wraps me in his arms, and I cry on his shoulder, yet again. I revel in the warmth and comfort of him. I feel safe in his arms, loved. I know he will never hurt me.
We finally break apart, and he reaches into his pocket. My breath hitches when he pulls out a black velvet box. He smiles playfully as he pops open the lid.
He presents me with the most stunning ring I’ve ever seen, a white gold, octagon shaped beauty. A large diamond sits at its center, surrounded by small sapphires.
I’m speechless.
“So…” he falters. “Is… is it a yes?”
I’m teary-eyed as I bounce into his arms. “Of course… yes!”
We hold each other tightly, but I’m quick to pull away because I want to take another look at the ring.
“It’s vintage,” he tells me. “Art Deco. I thought you’d like it.”
I’m still slack jawed. “I do. I love it.”
He gently pulls it out of its bed. “May I?”
I smile up at him. “Yes, you may, Mr. Hanson.”
He grins playfully as he takes my hand.
“This is crazy,” I point out.
He delicately slips the ring on my finger. “I know. But think of it as a promise ring. There’s no rush to jump into anything. We can take things as slow as you wish.” He studies the ring for the longest time. “It looks perfect on you.”
“Gretchen Morris-Hanson,” I say. “What do you think?”
He smiles. “Sounds perfect.”
