I frowned and texted her back to know I’d gotten it before slipping my phone back in my pocket. It was strange enough that she didn’t want to ride together — meeting me at an event was out of the ordinary. It was the whole point of the charade, in fact. I took a sip of my drink and paced through the throng of celebrities and socialites, saying hellos, shaking hands, laying false kisses on the cheeks of the women I knew, wishing Astrid were there — my security. My partner in crime. But she wasn’t, so I settled on Ash and entourage to occupy me.
But my mind wandered, my eyes roamed the crowd and the dresses on display throughout the room. It had been two days since Maggie had gotten the package. Two days of waiting patiently to hear from her. Of working for my father, grateful for something to keep me busy. I was grateful for the Gala, too. Grateful to stand next to Ash, who would keep my thoughts from her. Until the moment when I couldn’t hide from her anymore. The moment when I didn’t need to.
I felt her before I saw her.
I turned toward the entrance, my eyes finding her like I knew she was there, like she’d always been there. Her long earrings swung as she scanned the crowd, hanging just longer than her wild hair, and my eyes drank her in — her dress long, cut low and fitted, covered in strings of sparkling beads, draped to make her look like she was covered in a delicate spiderweb covered in dew. Her eyes burned bright and blue, lined with smokey kohl, and when they found mine, there was no one else, nothing else, not in the entire universe.
My axis shifted. Gravity took hold. My compass stopped spinning.
I don’t remember moving, only that she was in my arms. My eyes roamed her face, the face that graced my dreams, my thoughts every day. I wouldn’t have believed she was real if not for the weight of her against me.
“You came back,” I whispered.
“I had to. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t. Don’t apologize. You’re here.”
She smiled. “I’m here.”
I slipped a hand into her hair, resting my thumb on her cheek. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
“I’m sorry I ran away. I was afraid. But I’m not anymore. I trust you, Cooper. I believe you. I just hope you can trust me after everything I’ve done. I was cruel. I hurt you to push you away, but I never doubted you.”
“I know. I knew even when you didn’t.”
She laid a hand over mine, her eyes shining with tears.
“It was why I went after you. It’s why I wouldn’t stop trying. I won’t ever stop, Maggie. I need you, and if there’s a chance for us, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll beg. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do anything to make you mine.”
“But that’s what I need you to know. I’ve been yours from the start — I was just too broken to see the truth. But now … now I can give myself to you. I love you, Cooper, and if you want me, I’m yours.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath, opening them to find her still in my arms. And then I kissed her, and she kissed me, without a single demand, a single expectation. Just a simple kiss from the girl who loved me.
I broke away, pressed my forehead to hers, smiled down at her, acknowledging distantly that people were staring and cameras flashed away. But I didn’t care. There was no more reason to hide, no reason to pretend.
I was free.
Her eyes were bright and sparkling as she looked up at me smiling with her hands on my chest. “What do we do now, Mr. M?”
I squeezed her tighter. “Now? Now we drink. We eat. We dance. And then, I’m going to take you away from here.”
“Where will we go?”
My fingers found a curl near her face and slipped it through my fingers. “Anywhere you want.”
Her smile stretched wider. “First, take me home.”
“Which home?”
“Yours,” she said simply. “Home is where you are.”
A breathy laugh escaped me, and when I kissed her again, I felt the truth of her words in my heart.
I was home.
Maggie
Cooper swept me around the crowd, introducing me to celebrity after celebrity, the upper echelon of New York society. Somehow, I didn’t get ruffled, even though the whole affair was overwhelming. I just smiled and treated them like anyone else. They’re just people, after all, so I shook their hands and kissed their cheeks, asked them questions about their lives without prying or acting starstruck. Even the cold ones warmed up a little.
The dresses were brilliant, and every one had a story. They all asked me about mine — Astrid’s — so many awestruck by the craftsmanship, the detail. And the story was this.
In one of the many retellings of Cinderella, her fairy godmother made her dress from silken strands from spiderwebs and dew. And so Galliano designed the dress around the idea presented by Astrid — a 20s inspired gown, fitted and simple, with hundreds of strings of sparkling beads in varying sizes, all draped around the bodice and skirt to look like delicate, dewy spiderwebs that swung gently when I walked.
It was the most brilliant dress I’d ever seen in my life, never mind to wear it, after some emergency alterations of course. And then, there were the shoes. They were perfect — white platforms, covered in tiny crystals, just enough to make them sparkle without being showy at all. And they fit me. I swear to God, I felt like Cinderella herself when I slipped my foot into that shoe and it fit.
We walked through the exhibits featuring dresses from avant garde to historical pieces, then wandered into the dining room as dinner was announced. The moment we walked in, my eyes widened, and my chin tipped up to the ceiling. The columns lining the room were decorated to look like trees that stretched up to the ceiling, branches that wound across the open space, hanging with blankets of wisteria. Small lights were strung throughout, casting a soft glow, illuminating the canopy like tiny fairies.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
He kissed my temple and whispered back, “It’s nothing, compared to you.”
I could barely breathe as he towed me across the room and to our seats, which were at one of the long tables. I took a seat, unable to comprehend where I was, what was happening. It felt like a dream.
A menu sat just in front of a fresh glass of wine, and I picked the paper up, admiring the elegant vellum and scrolling word Spellbound. The table was covered in hyacinth and peonies, mossy wooden displays dotted with tiny wildflowers and spotted mushrooms.
Cooper sat next to me and smiled, watching me take it all in. “What do you think?”
“It’s like a real live fairy tale, Coop. They really don’t do anything halfway, do they?”
He laughed. “Never.”
“Cooper, I’ve been looking for you, man.” A tall, blond man about Cooper’s age approached with a brilliant smile on his face and a gorgeous girl on his arm, even if she looked incredibly bored. How anyone could have been bored there was beyond me.
We stood to greet him. “Ash,” Cooper said with a smile. “This is Maggie Williams.”
Recognition sparked behind his bright eyes, and he extended a hand. “West’s sister?”
I smiled and took it. “I am. Pleasure to meet you.”
“You too.” He shook his head and shot Cooper a knowing smile. “This is the girl? West’s sister is the girl?”
Cooper smiled back and laid a hand on my waist.
He laughed, a charming, carefree laugh. “Now I know why you weren’t forthcoming with the details. He must not know, if you’re still standing.”
We both laughed at that, though I was curious as to how exactly that all played out. “Once I told him how I felt, it wasn’t all that hard to convince him to let me live.”
The girl on Ash’s arm cleared her throat, and he remembered himself. “Oh, ah … sorry — this is Evangeline. Evangeline, meet Cooper Moore, one of my oldest friends.”
She put on a sour smile and extended a limp hand. “Charmed.”
Cooper gave it a halfhearted shake. “I’m sure.”