Page 128

“Darcy.” His voice softened, intimate despite the hundreds of people watching. “Will you marry me?”

This man had seen me at my worst and loved me anyway. He’d shown me that strength and softness could coexist. He had taught me that letting someone in wasn’t weakness, it was the bravest thing a person could do.

I thought about the past year. The beach days and family dinners. The quiet mornings in my garden and the late nights wrapped up in each other. The fights we’d had and the way we’d learned to work through them. But mostly when I looked at him, I saw my entire future.

I pulled off my mask, letting it fall to the floor. I wanted him to see my whole face.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, absolutely yes.”

He was on his feet in an instant, sliding the ring onto my finger before pulling me into his arms. The kiss was deep and passionate and probably not appropriate for such a public setting, but I didn’t care. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

Beau stepped back. He had turned off the mic. “I love you,” he said. “So much it scares me sometimes.”

“I love you too.” I held up my hand, watching the ring catch the light. “I love this ring.”

“I know, which is why I insisted on you getting to wear it on your finger.”

I looked out at the crowd filled with the faces of people who had watched my transformation over the past year. Board members who had doubted me. Colleagues who had underestimated me. My new family. Because that was what the Blackwells had become. My family.

“I think I need to finish my speech,” I said.

“By all means.” Beau gestured toward the microphone with an exaggerated bow. “The floor is yours, Ms. CEO.”

I picked up my mask from the floor and held it in my hands as I turned on the microphone again.

“Well,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “That wasn’t exactly how I planned to end this evening.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

“But I suppose that’s fitting. Because if this year has taught me anything, it’s that the best things in life rarely go according to plan.” I looked at Beau. “Sometimes you have to let go of the script and trust that the story will write itself.”

I raised my champagne glass. The crowd followed suit.

“To love,” I said.

“To love!” the crowd echoed.

I drank and then walked straight into Beau’s waiting arms.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of congratulations, champagne, and stolen kisses whenever we could manage them. At some point, we ended up on the dance floor again, swaying slowly with my head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped tight around me.

“Perfect,” he said. “So perfect.”

He didn’t have to be specific. I knew exactly what he meant.

***