Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“Beatriz Cruz. Combined Bachelor of Finance and Economics, Master of Finance, Graduate Enrichment Program.”
It didn’t matter that she’d been working full-time for months already.
Hearing her name from that podium still raised the fine hairs along her arms. She remembered every late night.
The spreadsheets that made her want to cry.
All the moments she’d wondered if she belonged, or if someone would eventually notice she didn’t.
Her posture squared as she walked up the crimson carpet toward the stage. The robe swayed against her calves as the St. Ives Auditorium rose around her with its carved wood paneling and sweeping balconies.
The dean stood waiting, gold and maroon hood heavy across his shoulders. The handshake was pure ritual, but his smile was real. Bea took the folder carefully. Her name caught the light in gold foil, and for a second she could only stare at it.
The glare stole the faces, but she knew exactly where her guests would be.
She turned, held up her diplomas, and waggled them from side to side in an unmistakable, I did it!
She hoped Umma’s camera had caught it, hoped her papa was proud.
Above the din, she could have sworn she heard Rafael and Claire cheer, and her grin turned unstoppable.
Her third certificate was held by Nate West on behalf of King Global Capital. Dark suit, cropped hair, posture straight as a parade line. When he passed her the folio, his grip held a fraction too long.
“Congratulations, Bea Cruz.” His steel-grey eyes were bright.
There wasn’t time to say anything but a hurried ‘thanks’ before the next name was called.
The foyer had turned into a tide of relatives and bouquets. Voices overlapped, flashes were going off in quick bursts. Bea moved carefully through the crush, folder tucked tight, scanning for the four she cared about most.
“Bea.”
Her heart stuttered as she turned. “Nate.”
They stood there for a beat, surrounded but oddly alone.
“How are you?”
“I’m good,” she replied. “You?”
He shrugged. “It’s nice to still see the sun at this hour.”
She nodded, thinking of London’s early dark. Then, for reasons known only to her nervous system, “I got married two days ago.”
Oh, Bea. Why?
“I heard,” he said, the corners of his mouth tipping upward. “Griffin’s a lucky man.”
It had been perfectly good small talk until she’d forced her ex-boyfriend’s best friend to compliment her husband.
“Thanks,” she said, hating how banal it sounded.
Nate briefly regarded her left hand. The blue stone flashed, bold and unapologetic against her skin. Her wedding band sat beneath. “That’s some ring.”
Bea bit back a smile. “He’s not built for moderation.”
The silence lingered, neither of them moving to break it.
“I’m glad it was you,” she blurted, again unnecessarily. “Presenting today.”
“Me too.” He paused, then added, “King thought I was the right choice.”
She understood. She was grateful. “How is he?”
“He’s fine. Busy being exactly who he is.”
Bea let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. “He could never be less.”
Nate seemed to be checking something he couldn’t ask outright. “You’re okay.”
Her face warmed. He’d been a friend to her. “I’m more than okay.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
She caught navy in her peripheral vision. Rafael came up beside them, close enough that she didn’t need to turn. His hand found the gap at the back of her graduation gown and settled low on her back. The heat of his palm hit spine, then nerve.
“There’s my wife,” he said against her temple, voice pitched for her alone. She smiled up at him in welcome. Rafael glanced at Nate. “West.”
“Griffin,” Nate returned in the same polite tone. “Congratulations on your nuptials.”
They shook, neither one blinking. Bea’s mind flashed to an event years ago, Nate stepping between them and escorting her out of Rafael’s orbit. Rafael’s hand remained where it was now, a wordless promise that nobody would be steering her anywhere again.
“I should do the rounds,” Nate said. “Nice to see you, Bea. Griffin.”
“You too,” she said.
He vanished into the sea of black gowns, and with him, every version of another life.
Bea wrapped both her arms tight around Rafael’s waist. He liked when she did that. She could tell by the way his body relaxed. “You found me.”
“Of course I did,” he murmured, hand framing one side of her face.
Someone cleared their throat just to her left, loud enough to be intentional. She forced her attention toward the voice and away from Rafael’s jawline.
“Jaxon!”
“Bea. Griffin.”
Rafael’s posture shifted, infinitesimally. “Dao.”
Jaxon, for his part, was unfazed. All the unreasonable was coming from her husband. A single nod passed between the men. Bea didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a close call.
“Could you take a picture of us?” she asked Rafael sweetly. He looked like he’d rather swallow glass. She elbowed him, gentle and insistent. “I only finished my Capstone project because of him.”
He lifted the phone without comment. She and Jaxon posed. The shutter clicked, and by the look of it, Rafael’s molars did the same.
Bea checked the photo. Jaxon wore a gold medal large enough to anchor a yacht, wearing the exact same expression he used for a moderately satisfactory spreadsheet.
“Summa cum laude and still no charisma.” Bea shook her head.
“I let the medal smile for me,” Jaxon returned. Someone called his name. “See you after your honeymoon.”
“My graduate!” Umma pulled her into a fierce embrace. Papa passed her a bouquet that could have been smuggled out of a royal coronation.
“You were elegant up there,” Papa said, voice gruffer than usual, and kissed her cheek.
Claire, trailing behind, presented a stuffed shark twice the size of her torso, wearing a tiny mortarboard. “I panicked,” she explained. “And I named him Fin Diesel.”
Bea broke into helpless laughter as she reached for the shark with her other arm. “He’s perfect. He reminds me of someone.” She grinned at Rafael.
“Octavian has a friend,” Rafael said dryly, referring to their three-foot-tall sunglasses-wearing octopus that he’d won her from the summer fair. “We’re going to need to extend our house for your soft toys.”
Bea was still giggling when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
GEORGINA: FYI Hunter’s not coming to your graduation dinner tonight.
BEA: He sick?
GEORGINA: We broke up.
BEA: WHAT?! WHEN?!
GEORGINA: This morning.
BEA: Are you serious? Are you okay???
GEORGINA: He gave me an ultimatum. You know how I feel about those.
GEORGINA: I’m fine. I’ll see you in an hour.
BEA: Are you sure? You don’t have to come. If you need space, we get it.
GEORGINA: The LAST thing I need is to be alone.
GEORGINA: I’ll be there with all my girls. Celebrating you.
BEA: Okay. We won’t make it a thing. Just hang out, eat, love you.
GEORGINA: Don’t you dare make tonight about me.
GEORGINA: And don’t tell anyone yet. I’ll see you at dinner.
Bea held the phone an extra beat before pocketing it. Thankfully, Rafael didn’t ask who it was. He just slid an arm around her again.
“Do you mind if we take some photos before we go to dinner?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Rafael said. “Top ten percenter gets whatever she wants today.”
Claire was already corralling Umma and Papa toward the photo line closest to the St. Ives banners.
Bea moved to follow, bearing her burdens, but Rafael’s hand slid three inches lower, to a point where her breath faltered.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured. “Your next education begins.”
Heat unfurled low in her belly. Her cheeks stayed dignified but the same could not be said about her knees. “Another one?”
“The one as Bea Griffin.”