36. Jack
JACK
S he says yes, and I can barely breathe.
We’re still standing in the hallway when it hits me all over again, she’s said yes.
And I don’t want to waste a single second.
The idea sparks before I can talk myself out of it.
We’ve waited long enough, for each other, for this life.
So I decide then and there, I’m taking her away.
It was always the plan, just not this soon. I’d meant to wait, to let the dust settle before pulling this particular surprise, but when she showed up at my door, wearing that smile and saying yes, every ounce of patience vanished.
I glance down at her after the kiss and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Come with me," I say, my voice low. "I want to take you somewhere."
She tilts her head, curious. "Where?"
"No stress. No headlines. Just us."
Her smile is instant, soft and sure. "Give me five minutes."
She ducks into Graham’s apartment to freshen up for a few minutes while I head into mine to grab a few essentials, and I head into mine to grab a few things, a change of clothes, my wallet, and the ring box I don’t need anymore but can’t quite leave behind.
Five minutes later, there’s a soft knock at my door. I open it to find her standing there, fresh-faced and glowing, eyes full of mischief and trust. She doesn’t say anything right away, just reaches for my hand like she’s picking up a conversation we never had to start.
By the time we leave the building, her hand is in mine like it’s always belonged there.
We move in sync, weaving past doormen, revolving doors, the lobby flashing behind us.
We walk the short distance to the waiting car.
I open the door and guide her in gently, letting my hand rest briefly at the curve of her back, as if I might never get to touch her again.
She slides into the backseat before I follow.
She’s still a little stunned, her fingers tracing the ring like she doesn’t trust it’s real.
“Where are we going?” she asks softly, her voice lined with disbelief and wonder.
I let the corner of my mouth lift. “Someplace warm.”
Her lips curve, just a little. She shifts closer, tucking one leg beneath her as she leans against my side. Our hands find each other again without thinking. The ring sparkles in the late afternoon light. I press a kiss to her knuckles.
“I should warn you,” she murmurs, glancing down at her outfit and then back up at me. “I didn’t exactly pack.”
I smirk. “You’re covered.”
The rest of the drive unfolds in a hush, a cocoon of laughter and soft teasing, of warm glances and the occasional brush of her knee against mine. She keeps trying to guess where we’re going, each guess more dramatic than the last.
At one point, between a mouthful of grapes and a playful elbow to my ribs, she narrows her eyes. "You know, I had a whole plan," I tell her, watching the gleam in her eyes.
She blinks. "A plan?"
I nod. "For the proposal. It was going to be this whole thing, at the new foundation space, surrounded by candles and music, with a plan to take you downtown afterward to a classy rooftop spot for champagne. Maybe even fireworks, if I could’ve swung it.
A romantic gesture that you’d pretend not to see coming. But then…”
"Then I showed up at your door," she finishes, grinning.
"Looking like everything I’ve ever wanted. And suddenly, waiting one more minute felt impossible."
Her expression softens, but before it gets too serious, I add, "Of course, you ruined my romantic scheme. So now, you’re going to suffer."
She gasps in mock outrage. "Suffer?"
"Endure," I amend, trying not to laugh. "So many pre-wedding celebrations. Engagement parties. Dinners. Maybe even a ball. Champagne toasts every weekend until we say 'I do.' It’ll be grueling."
"Sounds awful," she says, leaning closer. "Will there be cake?"
"So much cake," I say solemnly. "You’ll hate it."
She kisses my cheek, her laughter warm against my skin. "Fine. I’ll suffer. But only because I love you."
“South of France?” she says, grinning.
“Nope.”
“Morocco? No wait, Monaco! Somewhere with dramatic balconies and terrible espresso. Don’t tell me you’re whisking me away to the Alps.”
I shake my head, amused. “You’re adorable when you’re desperate.”
She gasps. “That was cruel.”
“I prefer strategic,” I laugh.
Her elbow nudges my side. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you said yes.”
That earns me a look, a glowing, gorgeous, entirely unbothered look that curls heat low in my stomach.
She laughs again, tips her head back against the seat, then leans into me like it’s where she’s meant to be.
Her fingers trail slowly along the inside of my wrist, and for a moment, all I can think about is how good she feels against me.
She rests her head on my shoulder. At one point, she falls asleep, and I let her.
Her breath is warm through my shirt. I hold her hand the entire time.
We pull up to the private hangar in the still light of early afternoon, the sun hanging high and lazy above the runway, casting long reflections across the sleek glass of the terminal windows.
The sky is pale blue and cloudless, the tarmac shimmering beneath the strong midday sun. Ivy stirs and blinks awake as the car stops.
“Where are we?” she asks, looking out the window. Then she sees the plane, sleek, white, and waiting, and turns back to me with a disbelieving laugh. “Jack.”
I shrug. “Still warm.”
The driver opens her door and hands me two small bags from the trunk. I hold one out.
She eyes it suspiciously. “What is this?”
“Yours. Graham packed a few of your things, said I’d earned it. Barely.”
Her brows lift.
“And this.” I hand her the envelope. “Graham gave it to me. Said if I was going to do something reckless, I better make damn sure you’d want to say yes.”
She opens it. Stares. “You stole my passport.”
“Borrowed. For love.”
She laughs, bright and easy. “You’re completely insane.”
“Romantic,” I correct.
She gets out of the car and I follow. The warm breeze kisses her hair, lifting it around her shoulders. She glances back at me, and for a second, I forget how to walk.
The stairs roll up to the plane as we approach. A flight attendant in navy greets us at the base. “Good evening, Mr. Wilson. Miss.”
“Evening, Alyssa,” I say.
Ivy turns to me. “You know the staff by name?”
“They’ve flown me enough times. You’ll like her.”
The captain appears at the door, offering a polite nod. “We’re ready when you are, sir. Smooth skies ahead.”
I nod and gesture for Ivy to go first. She climbs the stairs slowly, looking around like she doesn’t quite believe any of this is happening. I follow, eyes locked on her the whole way.
Inside, the cabin is softly lit, sleek and quiet. Two cream leather seats face each other across a small table with a chilled bottle of champagne resting in a silver bucket between them.
“Wow,” she breathes.
I step in behind her and place a hand at her lower back. She turns. Her mouth meets mine before she answers. It’s not a deep kiss, just a press of lips, soft and slow, but it unravels something in me anyway.
She pulls back slightly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not giving up.”
I lift her hand, kiss her palm. “Never even thought about it.”
The plane lifts twenty minutes later. We sip champagne while the lights of the city shrink to glittering pinpricks. She watches out the window, one hand still tangled with mine.
At cruising altitude, Alyssa brings over a tray with a light dinner. Ivy eyes the silver lids with mock suspicion, then shoots me a look across the table.
"Last chance to tell me," she says, lifting a brow.
"Nope," I reply, popping a grape in my mouth. "Not even close."
She leans forward, playful. "Do I get three more guesses?"
I shake my head, grinning. "You burned through your guesses before we even left."
"Unfair. I was distracted by the shock of finding out my fiancé is a billionaire magician with access to my passport."
"And yet, you still said yes," I say, gently nudging her foot under the table. Hungry?”
Ivy inspects the silver lids with curiosity.
“What is this?”
“Grilled halibut or mushroom risotto,” Alyssa says with a smile. “Mr. Wilson requested options.”
She grins. “You really did plan everything.”
“I had a feeling you’d be starving.”
We eat, side by side, laughter threading between bites.
She tells me about the mural she’s been painting, the commission she turned down last week, the playlist she made the night she left, one she hasn’t been able to listen to since.
I listen. I ask questions. I tuck stray strands of hair behind her ear like it’s something I’ve always done.
After dinner, the cabin dims. Ivy curls up beside me on the wide leather bench, her legs tucked beneath her, head against my chest.
“I can’t believe this is real,” she murmurs.
“It is.”
Her fingers find the edge of my sweater, the huge rock on her finger glinting faintly in the cabin light. “And the villa?”
“Private. Oceanfront. No neighbors.”
She hums. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Only if you want it to be.”
She lifts her head, her eyes finding mine. “I do.”
And I don’t think I’ve ever loved her more than I do in that exact moment, barefoot, wine-soft, and still brave enough to choose me again.
About two and a half hours into the flight, I find myself watching her more than the sky. She’s curled against me, skin warm through her top, one hand loosely laced with mine, the other tracing idle patterns against my thigh. Her laughter from earlier still echoes somewhere in my chest.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.
At peace. She’s not performing or guarding or bracing.
She’s just here, with me, wrapped in this shared, surreal in-between.
The sky outside is a palette of gold and fading blue, and her profile, lit by the dim cabin lights, is so striking it steals my breath.
I memorize the curve of her lashes against her cheek, the small crinkle at the bridge of her nose as she sleeps.
Then the captain’s voice crackles softly over the intercom.
the captain’s voice crackles softly over the intercom.
“Mr. Wilson, Miss, we’ll be beginning our descent shortly.
Estimated arrival in Nassau, Bahamas is approximately thirty minutes.
Local weather is clear and breezy, eighty-four degrees. ”
Ivy jerks upright against my chest, blinking at me like she’s just realized I’ve been hiding a second engagement ring in my pocket. “We’re going to the Bahamas?”
Her voice lifts in something close to a laugh, half incredulous, half giddy.
I nod, grinning. “Surprise.”
She lets out a disbelieving breath, covers her face for a second, and then laughs outright. “I cannot believe you. The Bahamas? I thought you were joking about the warm thing!”
“Never joke about heat. Or islands. Or you in a bikini.”
She swats my chest with the back of her hand, but she’s glowing now. Absolutely glowing.
The cabin murmurs with the change in altitude. Outside, the clouds begin to break, and beneath us, strips of turquoise and deep blue sea come into view, dotted with small green islands. Ivy presses her face to the window like a kid on her first flight.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “It’s beautiful.”
The plane dips lower, revealing white sand beaches curling like ribbons along the shoreline, and the bright coral rooftops of Nassau sparkling below.
I glance at Ivy again, trying to take in her reaction, but it’s more than just awe.
Her eyes are wide, glassy, like something sacred just cracked open inside her.
She’s not just excited. She’s undone in the best possible way.
And it hits me in the chest, sharp and soft all at once, that I did this. I gave her this moment.
We land smoothly on the tarmac at Lynden Pindling International Airport.
The sun is still high, the sky a perfect postcard blue.
Ivy squeezes my hand as we taxi toward the private terminal, her excitement radiating off her like heat.
When the door opens, warm, salty air floods the cabin.
Ivy gasps and looks at me like I’ve hung the moon.
“You really weren’t bluffing,” she says, her voice breathless with laughter.
She spins once on the tarmac, arms half outstretched, the breeze catching the hem of her shirt and tossing her hair around her face.
Then she stops, meets my eyes, and shakes her head like she’s trying to make sense of the moment.
She grips my hand tighter. “I don’t know how you keep doing this, surprising me like I’m the only person in the world.”
I look at her, lit up in the golden light, her joy pouring out in laughter and wide-eyed wonder.
And it undoes me. Because I’ve seen her guarded, I’ve seen her furious, I’ve seen her shattered.
But this, this uninhibited happiness, it feels like a miracle.
Like something sacred I never thought I’d earn.
My chest tightens with it, the kind of ache that comes from getting exactly what you never believed you could have.
I want to bottle this moment and live in it forever.
I step back, letting her go first. “Welcome to your yes.”
She walks down the steps slowly, wind in her hair, sunlight caught in the curve of her smile.
I follow, not even pretending to look away.
Because this, her, here, happy, is everything I’ve been waiting for.
I make a silent vow to never let the weight of our past outweigh the brilliance of this future.
Because this isn't just a moment. It's the beginning of all the ones to come.