Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
CAMRYN
Nearly five months later
“Are you sure about this?” Olivia asks, navigating the stairs to the hotel in sky-high heels. She looks amazing for having a three-month-old baby strapped to her chest. I swear, nothing slows her down.
“Positive.” I grin.
Looking down at my engagement ring, I feel almost giddy at the thought of deceiving everyone. I didn’t want a big rock or a lot of fanfare, though Sterling wanted to spoil me. When he proposed in Central Park, he did so without a ring. It was Christmas in New York, which means it was that magical time of year where everything is filled with joy and cheer. Big white fluffy snowflakes falling from the sky, us huddled together in wool coats and scarves, drinking hot cocoa and watching the figure skaters on the ice rink. It’s a memory I will always treasure.
He dropped down to one knee with a sweet, short, and genuine request that I make his life complete by becoming his forever. He asked me with a shaky voice if I would be his wife.
While tears filled my eyes, he pulled off my mitten and kissed my left ring finger. When I sobbed yes, he told me he wanted us to pick my perfect ring together. We went into Tiffany’s beautiful New York store, my cheeks pink and my eyes watery with happy tears. They gave us champagne and let me try on every ring I wanted. I could tear up again right now remembering Sterling’s happy smile.
The sales staff teased him about proposing without a ring, saying that it was a brilliant plan just in case I said no. But when our gazes met, Sterling and I both knew there wasn’t a chance I would have said no. I love him with every part of myself.
I ended up selecting a simple, yet sturdy platinum band encrusted with five rows of diamonds. It was two carats, but all the diamonds were tiny flecks encircling the ring. The effect was so sparkly, and the significance of there being no beginning and no end held meaning for me. Sterling picked a similar style ring, thick platinum without any diamonds. To my surprise, he’s worn it every day since. I teased him and told him in this country that engaged men don’t wear rings, and he simply said I know.
“Well then, let’s get on with it. You have a groom to deceive,” Olivia says, pulling me from my daydream. Her hand pats Emma’s back softly as she coos to her daughter, who’s almost asleep.
Suddenly, my thoughts darken. “Oh geez. I just thought of something. What if Sterling thinks I planned all this, that I’m only marrying him to get the inheritance money?”
Olivia chuckles at me. “You just now thought of that?”
“Yeah. Why?”
She shrugs. “That’s what I’ve been worried about the entire time.”
“Crap.” I push my hands into my hair. “Am I slow or something?” I’ve never even considered that.
“You’re not slow.” She laughs. “You’re in love. It clouds the brain; not your fault at all. I think it’s cute.”
At the word cute, I roll my eyes. Just great. My fiancé, who wanted to wait to marry, is currently out with Noah for drinks, and I’m at the hotel panicking.
We’re in Vegas for what he assumed was a bachelor party for him, but really, we’re getting hitched tomorrow at noon at one of those cheesy drive-through chapels. Then we’ll have dinner with our best friends, Noah and Olivia, and there will be dancing and champagne, and then a whole lot of alone time in our hotel suite later. I’m practically giddy just thinking of it. Five months of dating hasn’t even begun to cool the insatiable lust I have for him.
We’ve had our ups and downs like any couple, there have been mundane things like dealing with stress at work, and busy schedules, and then there’s been the tougher stuff, like watching him suffer as his mom’s health worsens. I thought our names might be dragged through the mud when the media learned that New York’s most popular bachelor was dating his matchmaker, but there was only excitement as the will-they, won’t-they aspect of us marrying took center stage.
But there have been countless sweet times too. Sterling is a loving boyfriend, thoughtful and considerate. He’s an amazing lover, and my best friend. I hate to think where I’d be today without him. Probably a bitter, jaded, and very single version of myself.
I love him, and that means I care for him enough that I won’t allow him to miss out on inheriting fifty million dollars simply to prove a point. I know what that money could mean for his mother’s care, and for our future. I’m not marrying him for the money; I just hope he knows that.
My stomach tightens when I remember how set he was on the notion that we wouldn’t marry until later. He wanted to be absolutely certain I understood that he wasn’t marrying me so that he could get his inheritance. But now, standing here, doubt has started to creep its way in. Maybe he’s just not ready . . .
I guess there’s one way to know for sure.