Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Weston
I strolled into my office the following morning with a grin on my face.
“Good morning, Rose.”
“Good morning, Wes. You seem in a great mood this morning.”
“I am.” I smiled. “Have Finn come down to my office.”
“Will do.” She smiled.
I set my briefcase down and took a seat behind my desk.
“What’s up?” Finn walked in and shut the door.
“Sam’s pregnant.” I smiled.
“Shut up! Seriously?” He grinned.
“She told me last night. I can’t believe that I’m going to be a father.”
“That’s awesome, Wes.” He walked over. I stood, and we hugged.
“Thanks. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
“Don’t you think you should wait a bit?”
“Why would I?”
“You two just found out you’re having a baby. Let that sink in first. Propose later.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I love her, and I want to marry her.”
“Okay.” He laughed. “I get it. Wow. I can’t believe you’re going to be a father. Man, how times have changed. I’m not sure how your grandmother is going to feel about it.”
“I don’t give a damn how she feels. She can fuck off for all I care.”
“I agree, but you know how she is.”
“I do, and that’s why we need to remove her from the board.”
“Right.” He laughed. “And how are you going to make that happen?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m working on it.”
“You’re serious?” He cocked his head.
“Dead serious. I want that woman out of my life. Once she’s off the board, I’ll never have to see her again.”
Two Weeks Later
Samantha
It was lunch time, and I was sitting in the faculty lounge with Greta, eating lunch, when Zoey walked in.
“Mom?”
“Hey, Zoe. What’s up?”
“I’m not feeling good. I have a bad sore throat and a headache.”
I jumped up from my chair, walked over to her, and placed the back of my hand on her forehead.
“You don’t feel warm.”
“I feel like crap. I called Wes, and he’s sending Ben to pick me up and take me home. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Okay.” I kissed her forehead. “Go home, take some Motrin, and go to sleep.”
“That’s the plan.” She coughed.”
“I hope she’s okay,” Greta said.
“Me too. I hate when she gets sick.” I sat down.
“Well, in a few months, you’ll have another little one to worry about.” She grinned.
Weston
Zoey opened the car door and climbed inside.
“Did she buy the whole sick act?” I asked.
“Hook. Line. And sinker.”
“Good.” I smiled.
We walked through the doors of Harry Winston.
“Now, remember, Wes, nothing big.”
“What’s wrong with a big diamond?” My brows furrowed.
“Nothing. But my mom doesn’t want to look like she’s smuggling an ice cube on her finger.”
“Hello. Do you have an appointment?” The sales associate walked over.
“We do. He needs an engagement ring for my mom,” Zoey said.
“Right.” I nodded. “The name is Weston Castile.”
She typed away on her iPad. “Ah, yes. You’re right on time. Follow me.” She smiled.
She led us to an area in the back with a long, elegant table and a few velvet chairs.
“This is very exciting.” The sales associate smiled.
“It is,” Zoey said. “And terrifying. He has billionaire taste.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot her a look.
“Duh, Wes. It means you think more expensive automatically equals better.”
“Really?” I cocked my head. “I recall buying you a five-thousand-dollar Louis Vuitton purse because the three-thousand-dollar one wasn’t good enough.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t my style.”
The sales associate let out a light laugh. “Let’s start with style preferences. What does your girlfriend usually wear?”
“She likes simple things,” Zoey said. “Classic, elegant, nothing trendy.”
“Perhaps I should have just sent you to pick it out for me,” I said to her with a raised brow.
The sales associate pulled out several trays with rings on them and set them in front of us. I immediately picked up an emerald cut one and held it up.
“Oh, my God, no,” Zoey said.
“Why? I think it’s very nice.”
“It is, but it’s not her. My mom likes meaningful things. She’s kept every note I’ve ever written, even the embarrassing ones. And she still has the pressed flower from a field trip in fourth grade that I picked for her.”
“It sounds to me that she’d love something timeless.” The sales associate smiled.
“Exactly!” Zoey pointed at her. “She’s an English Lit teacher and is obsessed with literature books. She loves timeless pieces and things that don’t chase trends.”
“I think I have the perfect ring. I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later, the sales associate returned with a single ring on a small velvet pillow. A platinum band with a round brilliant cut solitaire, around 2.5 carats, with diamonds cascading down each side.
I picked it up and examined it. It felt perfect. I could already picture it on Sam’s hand.
“There it is,” Zoey said.
“What?” I glanced at her.
“The face. Your face. You’re thinking with your heart and not your wallet.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have a face.”
“You have a face.” The associate smiled.
“Thank you!” Zoey said. “That’s the one, Wes. She’ll love it.”
“She most definitely will. I’ll take it.” I handed it back to the associate.
After we left the store, Zoey hooked her arm around me as we walked down the street.
“So, what’s the proposal plan?” she asked.
“I have one.” I smiled.
“On a scale of one to ten, how embarrassing is it?”
“Perhaps an eight.” I grinned.
“Excellent, Wes. Excellent.”
I laughed.
“Just promise me one thing,” Zoey said.
“What?”
“Don’t say something weird like, ‘Will you merge your life with mine?’ Like, don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I frowned.
“But you thought about it. I know you.”
We stopped at the ice cream shop and grabbed a couple of ice cream cones before heading home.
“Remember to get into your pajamas when we get home and get in bed. Play the sick act, or she’ll suspect something.”
“Don’t worry. I’m good at acting.” She grinned.