Page 162 of A Million To Fall

“The last few years with you have been incredible,” he says. “You’re beautiful, smart, determined, a little stubborn, sometimes whiny.” People chuckle. I wince.

“But perfect for me,” he continues. “You support me. You encourage me. You strengthen me. You’re everything a man could hope for in a partner.”

Soft sighs ripple through the room.

“I want to build a life with you,” he goes on. “I want to come home to you, raise children with you, protect you, provide for you, make sure you never have to worry about anything. I want to give you everything, Skye.”

My stomach churns. I want to kick off my heels, grab my dress, and run. Instead, I stand there, paralyzed by the weight of expectation and consequence.

Archer lowers the microphone into his left hand and reaches into his pocket with the right. Then he drops to one knee.

Oh, god. No.

Gasps echo around the room, but all I hear is my heart pounding in my chest. Archer opens a small black box, revealing a diamond so bright it almost hurts to look at.

“Skye,” he says, looking up at me, “will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Time stops.

Boston.

His hands on my body. His mouth on my lips. His voice in my ear. My heart in his hands.

What do I do?

I should be happy. This is what girls dream about, isn’t it? The perfect man, the perfect ring, the perfect setting. I’ve been with Archer for years. We’ve survived high school, long-distance, political campaigns, family holidays. People look at us and see a polished future. There’s comfort in that kind of expectation, in knowing what your life is supposed to look like.

But the truth is I don’t love him. Not anymore. Not after New York, and his hand on my throat, and the way he speaks to me. Has always spoken to me. And maybe I never did love him. Maybe what I thought was love was just youth, immaturity, infatuation. The thrill of being chosen by someone like Archer. Maybe it was always about being seen, being wanted, being good enough for a family like his.

But I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t want to be that girl anymore.

Still, I can’t say no. Not now. Not in front of hundreds of people. Not with the press watching, not after Mr. Longfellow’s big announcement. Not when the deal I made is the only thing keeping Boston from losing his family all over again.

I knew what it would cost me. And I chose it anyway.

But, oh god, Boston.

Even thinking his name feels like a betrayal.

I can’t breathe.

“Skye?” Archer says quietly, his smile beginning to fade from his lips with my silence. I’m the fucking worst.

The room waits.

Hundreds of eyes.

Cameras.

Archer.

And somewhere, Boston—shaking his head, jaw set, telling me I don’t have to do this.

And I do it anyway.

I force the word out of my mouth.

“Yes.”