Chapter 66
sixty-six
If I thought Marco was the most handsome man to ever live when he wears black, seeing him in a white suit only confirms it.
His bronze skin looks incredible against the ivory fabric. Golden light glints off his black hair and the fine layer of stubble along his square jaw. Magic hour fills his deep, dark eyes, too, highlighting all their depths.
I want to run to him.
That’s my first instinct. The second our eyes meet, everything inside me simply melts and sighs. Relief extends in my soul, softening parts of me that have only ever yielded to the man standing in front of me, silhouetted by the beginnings of sunset.
He has something to show me. On the very same rooftop where I realized I was head over heels in love with him months ago.
The notion reminds me of how he knew to plan that date on the roof to begin with. When I asked about the box under my bed, he winced.
I wait for the placations. Of course, Marco will tell me not to be embarrassed, even if he doesn’t mean it…. Right?
Instead, he blows out a deep breath, keeping his hands extended while he sways toward me slightly.
“I was hoping to get to tell you myself.” He sighs. “I had a proper apology planned, and I was going to give you this.”
He bends to the side, picking up a wrapped parcel tucked against a post. He brings it to the space between our bodies, presenting me with…
A shoe box.
Wrapped neatly in periwinkle. Still romantic and pretty, but not quite as embarrassing as my pink-heart paper.
Our eyes lock—dark to light, both drenched in gold. Here, he seems to say. I made it for you.
I take it and pry the lid off, my fingers shaking. Inside, there are pictures I don’t recognize. Townhouses, family-sized SUVs, vacation rentals.
“What is this?” I breathe, trembling.
But I know. Even before he smiles faintly and exhales a reply. “You had your box. This is mine.”
A quiet sob sticks in my throat. “Marco.”
He cups both hands around my face, his tense gaze burning into mine. “Or… it could be ours. I want us to build a life together. Everything in here, everything you want to add to it… It’s yours. Because you are the one I waited for, Alice Moore. And I’ll give you anything.”
My heart reacts without my head’s permission, unable to bear the deep-rooted tug of his soul to mine one second longer. My frozen hands finally move, setting the box beside our feet before reaching for him.
Sparks skitter under my skin, leaving goosebumps over my arms despite the warm nearly-summer wind buffeting our rooftop. Marco’s arms snap me up, straight into his body.
Lord, I love how hard and huge he is, towering over me and my heels. Curving around every bit of the body that used to feel too large.
Not anymore, though. In his embrace, I feel delicate and precious. The perfect size to fill his arms without even coming close to the sheer broadness of him.
His hug starts out sweet, but soon his hands are clutching at my dress while his chest heaves against mine. “Fuck,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek into my temple. “Alice.”
Relief rolls over me, leaving pure euphoria in its wake. The feeling tingles down into my dangling toes as I smooth one palm down his back and reach the other up to touch his hair.
Marco always told me that there was a moment when he knew I was the one for him. His letters described it often, always with reverence. I have my own memories of it, but didn’t fully relate to how he felt until this very second.
The deepest part of me settles into an unwavering sort of certainty.
I belong with this man.
He was made for me.
The answer to every hope and prayer I ever had. The one who has been waiting for his soulmate all his life, because he believed I was out there. He believed I would be worth it.
He still believes that, even after I’ve done everything I can to question him. Despite all the mistakes we have both made. He’s here, fighting for me every bit as hard as he has from the beginning. Waiting until I’m ready to accept all the things he wants to offer me.
Because, to him, I am worth anything. Everything.
My whisper sounds watery. “I’m here,” I tell him, meaning it in so many different ways. “I’m here, baby.”
A quiver rocks through him along with another pant. Slowly, every bit reluctant, he sets me on my feet. His fingers release my sundress, gliding up to my shoulders, then down my arms to tangle his grasp with mine, squeezing gently.
“Come with me,” he says.
The gruffness of his voice puts a tickle in my throat, more tears threatening. Still, I nod and follow as he walks backward, leading me from the recesses of the elevator to the center of the rooftop.
It’s full. And completely transformed into four smaller alcoves, each under its own bower of flowers, all different colors and themes and…
Oh my God.
“What is this?”
The words sound as numb as my lips feel. Marco moves to stand behind me, his arm banding around my hips briefly to offer an encouraging squeeze.
“I figured if you were going to trade your old box for a new one, I should at least give you some of the things you had in there first.”
When my mouth drops all the way open, his rueful smile turns teasing. He nods, urging me toward the first tent on the right. “Go see.”
I feel like I’m floating as I wander to the makeshift gazebo-like structure, stepping into a canopy of lush red roses and crushed velvet.
The quiet pulse of sensual house music fills the little space, along with dozens of gorgeous lingerie sets.
It almost looks like… a high-end lingerie store?
Or a modern take on an old-fashioned honeymoon trousseau.
The kind I’ve secretly always dreamed I would have.
Or not-so-secretly, it turns out.
The more I look, the more familiar the pieces feel. They aren’t exact matches for all the ones I kept pictures of in my box, but they are very close.
Marco waits at the threshold of the sumptuous space, his smile small and soft when I turn back to him. “You have good taste,” he says simply, shrugging one big shoulder.
A giggle slips out before I can stop it. “I think you have good taste. Or just a very, very good memory…?”
Another sheepish shrug, but his grin grows for a second before his face suddenly becomes unbearably earnest. “I will always remember everything about you.”
I nearly swoon into him. “Thank you,” I breathe.
“You’re welcome, sweet girl,” he rumbles, wrapping his arms around me and grazing my ear with his lips. “Come on. There’s more.”
He isn’t kidding. The next canopy is an ode to all my pictures of Paris. Pink silk, blush flowers, and a table full of the most delicate, beautiful pastries I’ve ever seen.
The third tent is concealed by dark burgundy curtains. When I step in, I can barely breathe for the swell of joy that threatens to pop my lungs.
A library. The entire space is one continuous round bookshelf, taller than me, stuffed with every classic and romance novel I can imagine. In disbelief, I pick up the nearest one, sure it must be a prop. But, no, it’s one of my favorite Scarlett Scott novels, in perfect condition.
When I whip my face around to gape at Marco, he flashes my favorite grin. “You should see my book suggestions now,” he teases with a mocking shake of his head. “Shameful.”
I feel dizzy as I laugh, swaying into him. “Marco, you didn’t have to—”
His lips swoop down, silencing mine with a chaste press that’s far too brief. “Hush,” he whispers, “I wanted to. Come on, one more.”
I’m a sniffling mess by the time we get to the last little alcove on the roof, lying directly over the spot where we once had dinner. Marco holds me through every bout of overwhelming gratitude that swells into tears, his solid certainty every bit as calming as ever.
Finally, he leads me to the final space.
This room has no walls, its frame open to the beautiful view around us and wrapped in floral vines. Candles flicker all around the floor, creating a perfectly circular patch at the center.
Marco steps into the empty space. For a long moment, he just stares at me. Soft warmth fills his strong features, the look practically worshipful. He extends his hand again and waits for me to join him.
Dazed joy sparkles through me. I close my eyes and settle my cheek against his chest. “I can’t believe you did all of this.” My arms flex around his middle. I whisper, “I still can’t believe you’d want anything to do with me after seeing what was in that box.”
He leans back, finding my eyes and pinning me in place with his fervent gaze. “Never be embarrassed by what you have in there, sweet girl. Never.”
My answer laugh is weak, wilted by chagrin. “But you saw… everything.”
Sincerity burns in his depths. “That’s the thing, Alice. When I found that box, and I saw what was in it, do you know what I realized?”
My brow folds into another grimace as I stare up at him. Do I even want to know?
“…w-what?”
His smile warms while his eyes snap with molten intensity. He steps back, reaching for his pocket. Pulling out a small ring box as he drops to one knee.
“I realized that all of your dreams were my dreams, too.”