Dropping The Ball - A New Year’s Billionaire Romance - Weston Parker Page 0,111
and I even wanted children. We did. We’d actually already discussed it, but someone really needed to speak to the generation before us about asking questions that had the potential to slice someone’s heart in half.
“No, ma’am,” I said politely. We had a party to get ready for. Now wasn’t the time to educate her on all the reasons why not to ask every damn young woman that question. “I’m sure that if and when we have children, we’ll bring them to visit often. Our lives and careers are in New York. I doubt we’ll move back.”
“Have you got any wedding plans yet?” she asked, and I mentally slapped a palm over my face.
“No, ma’am. We don’t yet.” My heart went all aflutter at the thought of marrying Carter, though. He hadn’t made a secret of the fact that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He’d also said that he’d waited long enough and I’d agreed, proud of us for continuing to be totally honest with one another.
We’d even looked at a few rings together, and I had a definite favorite, but we hadn’t picked one out just yet. A shiver of excitement ran through me. We had another appointment with the jeweler next week. Maybe as soon as next weekend, I’d be wearing the symbol of his love and devotion to me on my left hand.
I’d considered asking him instead, but he’d insisted on wanting to do things the traditional way. Maybe he’d even ask my father this weekend.
Eeeeek!
I couldn’t wait to say yes to him, to really promise him my forever. It might seem to others like it was way too soon for us to be talking about taking our relationship to that next level, but we were ready. We’d known each other for so long that some—Mrs. Demming, for example—thought we had moved so slowly that even snails would’ve beat us four times over by now.
Mrs. Birch talked to me for another couple of minutes, and I got the distinct impression she was trying to think of things to keep me here for a while longer, asking about the show and whether I planned to keep performing despite my illness—absolutely—before going to find my parents.
Turning back to the pile of tomatoes I needed to get through, I suddenly realized there was no one left in the kitchen. Just a moment ago, it’d been buzzing with activity, and now I was completely alone. There was enough food to feed an army covering the counters, but everyone who had been helping with the preparation, including Mrs. Demming and three of Carter’s sisters-in-law, were suddenly gone.
What the…
Although the party hadn’t officially started yet, most of the guests had already arrived. They were all my parents’ closest friends, the people who I had grown up in front of. Carter’s family rounded out the mix.
Everyone had arrived early, insisting on pitching in to help. And yet, I was now the only one left.
Shaking my head at my pile of tomatoes, I went out to see what was going on. Sounds of laughter and talking came from our backyard. Seems everyone’s decided to get the party started.
I shrugged as I followed the sound. There was more than enough time to get the rest of the food ready later, I supposed.
When I walked out onto the grass, Billy was the first to notice me. He shoved Carter’s shoulder with his own, tipping the open end of his beer bottle at me.
I paused in the door, wondering what that was about. Then things got even weirder. One by one as people noticed me, they turned to face Carter. The chatter died down, and Tucker even shushed the kids where he was standing with them at a bouncy house we’d rented for the occasion.
Carter slowly turned to face me, withdrawing his hand from his pocket and clutching something in it. Frowning and wondering what the heck was up with everyone, I took a few more steps forward before slamming to a stop when he started lowering himself down on one knee.
My heartrate spiked until I was sure the organ had sprouted wings and was trying to fly right out of my chest. I pressed a hand over it, but it did nothing to calm it.
Carter’s dark eyes were locked on mine, a smile spreading across his face as he opened his palm. In the center of it was a velvet ring box. Flipping it open, he revealed the ring that had been my favorite when we went to look at them.
My jaw dropped. “When did you get that?”
“Ordered it the same day we saw it.” He lifted it higher, the rectangular diamond in the middle of a plain golden band glinting in the late-afternoon sun. “I saw the look on your face when you saw it. It was the right one.”
“You’re the only right one that matters,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I’d have married you with a stalk of grass tied around my finger.”
“Now she tells me,” he said, and several people chuckled before he went on. Our mothers stood off to one side of him with their arms around each other, our fathers standing on either side of them with their arms slung over their wives’ shoulders. “I haven’t got a long, drawn-out speech planned. As all of you know, I prefer to keep things to the point.”
He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, his eyes filling with love when he looked at me again. “Be my wife, Rylee. My bride. My forever. Please?”
Tears gathered in my eyes, and I let them flow freely as I closed the distance between us at a run. “Everyone was in on this together, weren’t they?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. Still holding the ring up, he watched me fall to my own knees with wide eyes.
I laughed, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him while murmuring my answer against his lips. “Not fair, but yes, Carter. Of course I’ll marry you.”
And hopefully, we’ll live happily ever after. God only knew there was nothing I wanted more.
The End
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About the Author
Hey there. I'm Weston.
Have we met? No? Well, it’s time to end that tragedy.
I'm a former firefighter/EMS guy who's picked up the proverbial pen and started writing bad boy romance stories. I co-write with my sister, Ali Parker, but live in Texas with my wife, my two little boys, a dog, and a turtle.
Yep. A turtle. You read that right. Don’t be jealous.
You're going to find Billionaires, Bad Boys, Military Guys, and loads of sexiness. Something for everyone hopefully. I'd love to connect with you. Check out the links below and come find me.
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The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.