Chapter 6 #2
Laughter bubbled around her as she said, with a playful wink at her “fiancé,” “And yet, despite all these mishaps, he still proposed to me. Can you imagine? He actually wants someone who brings this level of spontaneity into his life.” Her laugh rang light and easy, but when she glanced at him, her expression softened.
Andrew chuckled. “Well now, it certainly appears she keeps you on your toes, Ronan. That can’t be all bad.”
“She’s worth it,” he said, his voice even, so composed and certain that her heart gave a small, startled jump.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slid an arm around her waist and drew her closer.
His palm pressed against the thin fabric of her dress, sending a quick shiver through her.
Eleanor’s sharp eyes flicked between them, dissecting every nuance, every exchanged look, every movement. For a moment, the ballroom’s buzz dimmed…the world shrank to just the four of them. She swallowed, mind racing for her next move.
Then, without thinking it through, she leaned into him, letting her head rest against his shoulder.
He stiffened for half a second—long enough for her to notice—but then relaxed, his hand shifting at her waist. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, lower, carrying an intimacy that made her breath catch.
“She makes life interesting,” he said, barely above a murmur.
Eleanor’s lips curved, though her eyes still gleamed with interest. “Interesting is often underrated,” she said, before glancing at Andrew. “Don’t you agree, darling?”
“Certainly keeps things lively,” Andrew said, raising his glass in a silent toast.
Devney straightened, maintaining her calm facade as though nothing about that exchange had set her heart pounding. As the conversation flowed, she stole a glance at Ronan. His composed demeanor held, yet a new tension edged his posture, as if he too had registered the shift.
Eleanor’s gaze dropped to Devney’s hand, and her stomach plummeted. The ring. She’d been so focused on charm and wit that she’d forgotten about the sunflower perched on her finger like an uninvited party crasher.
It sat there, bold and unapologetic, its cheerful yellow petals clashing spectacularly with the elegance of the evening. A statement piece, certainly—not the kind that said wealth and sophistication. More like whimsical flea-market find.
“That’s an interesting choice,” Eleanor said, polite interest threading her tone as her eyes lingered on the yellow-and-brown sparkle.
Devney didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, he picked it out himself,” she said, lifting her hand, so the light caught the gaudy stones. “Very sentimental.”
“Sentimental?” Eleanor repeated. “Unexpected.”
“Absolutely,” she said, easing into a sliver of truth. “He knew I wouldn’t appreciate the typical choice.”
She sent him a playful glance from beneath her lashes, fingers tracing the sunflower circle.
More than an emblem of their faux engagement, the ring stirred sun-drenched memories of her grandmother’s homestead—golden fields, laughter on the breeze—little pieces of home she hadn’t realized she missed until she spotted the ring at the corner store.
Fifteen ninety-nine felt like a small price for a thread back to that warmth.
With a curve to her lips, she turned to Eleanor.
“Sunflowers remind me of someone special—my grandmother, who raised me after my mother passed away,” she said, her tone tender as she held the other woman’s gaze.
“I wear them because they make me feel closer to her, even though she’s been gone for years. ”
Then, as if the moment hadn’t dipped into inconvenient honesty, she nudged him with her elbow. “Isn’t that right?”
He adjusted a cufflink as though the turn in conversation were a routine pivot. “She has a unique way of tying the past to the present,” he said. His lips curved, not quite a smirk, but close, meant only for her.
“Family values. That’s what I like to see,” Andrew said, gently swirling his bourbon. His blue eyes glimmered with approval as he looked between them. “Not many men understand the importance of uniqueness in a partnership.”
“He’s not most men,” Devney said, patting Ronan with theatrical affection and feeling the brief tension in his muscles.
“Clearly,” Eleanor said, her expression unreadable. Then she laughed, a genuine sound that caught Devney off guard. “Well! They’re not what I expected. I like it.”
“Me, too,” Andrew said, tipping his glass before taking a sip.
Devney exhaled as the tension in her shoulders eased. Eleanor had relaxed, and Andrew’s scrutiny had melted into amused approval. It felt like stepping off a roller coaster and realizing she was still in one piece.
“Shall we discuss that proposal over lunch next week?” Andrew asked Ronan, casual but decisive.
“Of course,” Ronan said, sliding smoothly back into businessman mode. He extended a hand, which Andrew shook. “Devney will call Monday to confirm the details.”
“Wonderful,” Eleanor said brightly, her eyes lingering on Devney a heartbeat longer before she turned with her husband.
The second they were out of earshot, Devney let out the tiniest, most dignified sigh. “Unique, huh?” she said, glancing up at him with a sly grin.
“Unbelievable,” he said under his breath, with no real bite. If anything, he looked a little impressed.
Or maybe she imagined it. Either way, she wasn’t about to let him ruin her moment.
“Admit it,” she said, linking her arm through his as they made their way toward the bar. “You’d be lost without me.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Later, as the night wound down, and the crowd thinned, he handed her a glass of champagne.
“You deviated from the script, but you pulled it off.”
“We pulled it off,” she said, clinking his glass.
“I’ll admit it.” He lifted his own. “You’re good at this.”
“Good? Try exceptional.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She glanced sideways at him, catching the slight lift of his mouth and the glint of unspoken thoughts in his eyes, and she knew she’d won more than Eleanor and Andrew’s approval tonight.