Page 8 of Ruthless In A Suit

I don’t need him.

He turns to face me, the water lapping gently at our toes as the tide goes out.

“Cadence, what I’m about to say is going to sound crazy. I feel crazy just thinking it. But I don’t think I can go another minute without saying it.”

I want to reply, to encourage him, but I can’t find my voice. He takes my other hand in his, until we’re standing just as Logan and Julia did at the end of the aisle. And that’s the first moment where I get a glimmer that maybe this might go the other way.

“I’ve spent the last decade working my ass off, first in college, then law school, and then at the firm. I’ve sacrificed everything to be the very best at what I do. And I have no problem telling you that I am. I am the best.”

The way he says it makes me shiver, and I have no trouble believing that it’s true.

“I thought I was happy,” he continues. “I thought that was what I wanted, was all I needed. But then you walked into my office, and everything changed. I don’t know how to explain it. I wish I could. But there’s no explanation for the fact that in just a matter of days I’ve fallen completely head over heels for you.”

My breath escapes me like a bird flying off into the horizon. My mouth drops open, but before I can say anything, he lifts a finger and presses it to my lips.

“I’m not done, and I’m afraid if I don’t keep going I’m not going to be able to say it.” He takes a breath, his gaze flicking down to his toes, which are rapidly disappearing into the sand. When he glances back up at me, our eyes meeting, there’s all the depth of ocean reflected in them. Every part of me grows warm, and I prepare myself to listen.

To remember it forever. To record this memory for replay later, because I know I’m going to want to.

“I want to be with you. Forever. Starting now, and never stopping.” He shakes his head, the slightest smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done, which really just tells me it’s absolutely right.” Then he drops down, settling his knee in the sand, the tide soaking his navy suit pants. He gazes up at me, a mixture of complex emotions written all over his face. “I don’t have a ring, and believe me, we will fix that, but I can’t go another second without asking, without knowing it for sure. Cadence Fallon, will you marry me?”

The recent days play out before me like a montage: standing in front of Maxon Law waiting to go in for the interview, sitting opposite Levi for the first time, the drive here where we talked about our families, that first kiss in the hotel room, the first time he touched me, the first time I let him push me over the edge.

And even though I agree with him wholeheartedly that this is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and if you’d told me last week that Levi Maxon was going to ask me to marry him I’d have told you I was just as likely to put on a clown suit and swim to Iceland, I also agree with him that in some way that’s what makes it right.

Because I know I’m falling in love with him and I want to take this chance.

I know that this feels right, somehow.

So even though every part of this seems like a dream, I’m wide awake when I gaze into his ice blue eyes and smile.

“Yes. Absolutely yes I will marry you, Levi Maxon.”

LEVI

The lights arelow in the gallery, a soft orange glow coming in through the windows from the streetlights outside. The space is empty save for the paintings on the wall, a show of vintage Norman Rockwell paintings.

They’re Cadence’s favorite. She always says she loves the sheer Americana that radiates from every stroke. Sentimental favorites, but I’m not ashamed of the sentiment, she says.

It’s been a week since we returned from the Cape, and for the past seven days we’ve kept our secret.

She’s spent nearly every night at my place, though she’s resisted my request to actually move in. She trudges back to her dad’s house in Southie each day for new clothes and to make an appearance.

As real as it all seems, every morning I quietly remind myself that the feelings I have for Cadence are not actually real.

I’m an actor who’s gotten so deep into his role that he’s forgotten exactly who he is.

But despite my conflicted feelings, the plan goes forward. It has to work, even if my own soul is forfeit because of what I do to reach my goals.

I pat the pocket holding the ring box for maybe the thousandth time.

As soon as we got back from The Cape, I set off through the city looking for the perfect ring. And I finally found it at an antiques dealer in Cambridge, a 1920s art deco piece with a single karat diamond flanked by sapphires and smaller diamonds. The sapphires remind me of the ocean waves the day I proposed to her.

I shake my head to try and clear away the memories of that day at the beach.

The proposal was an act, I remind myself.

None of this is real, so stop being such a goddamn sap.