Page 136 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“Idea,” I pointed at myself, then at Brody, “execution.”

“Does that make me an executioner?” She grinned and placed the plate on the kitchen island in front of Beck. “Happy Birthday!”

“My birthday isn’t until next week.” He furrowed his brows, but I could hardly tell him that I had plans to whisk him off to London for his birthday. That was a well-kept secret between me, Brody, Cordelia, and Beck’s assistant, who had filled his calendar with bogus meetings while blocking all actual appointments.

“It’s technically the practice run for your birthday,” I said and set a fork and napkin down for him, “surprise.”

“Come here.” He caught my wrist and pulled me around the kitchen island to steal a quick kiss from my lips. My heart fluttered in response, still as easily swayed as if I couldn’t get all the kisses I ever wanted from him. “I don’t like waking up without you next to me.”

My cheeks heated but Brody’s gagging sound made both of us laugh. “Will you try the damn food already, so I can go back to bed?”

“Alright, alright,” he picked up the fork and I held my breath as he cut off the very tip of his slice.

“No, no, no, you have to take a bigger bite,” Brody protested, pointing her finger at an imaginary line on the frittata.

“Brody,” I breathed a warning.

“Just cut through like here,” Brody’s finger swiveled over the cheesy eggs on his plate.

“Here?” Beck laughed and deliberately brought is fork down half an inch away from her finger, but he stilled at the sound of metal hitting metal.

For a moment, the entire kitchen fell silent. Even the refrigerator seemed to stop humming. The only sound was the blood rushing in my ears while I waited. It was probably five seconds, but it felt like five hours before Beck broke through the frittata with his fingers.

He pulled out a simple dark platinum ring, an exact match for the color of his eyes. I’d walked past it in a shop window and had to double back because of its distinct hue. That had been two days before our car race last year, and I’d kept it safe since.

“You see,” I said, finally pulling his attention from the ring to me. “I’m 27 years old. I have no money, no company, and no prospects. But with you Beck, I’m not frightened.”

“Are you misquoting the Pride and Prejudice movie to me?” He chuckled. “Not even the book?”

“Fine. Let me try a Delilah Edwards original.” My breath trembled in my lungs. I couldn’t get this wrong. I wanted this to be perfect. I wanted him to say yes. Taking a moment to steady myself, I took the ring from him and cleaned it with the napkin. Once it was spotless, I looked up at him again. His steel eyes softened as a small smile twitched over his lips, and that hint of hope was encouragement enough. “Iadoreyou in a way that if anyone tried to insult your eyes, I’d start a club called Ice - I C E - and make it the most sought-after club in the world. Itrustyou in a way that makes the rest of the world inconsequential as long as you’re holding me. And Iloveyou in a way that makes me not want to waste another second not being your wife.” I held out my open palm with the ring in it. “August Beckett, will you marry me?”

He cleared his throat. “Brody, could you?”

“On it!”

“What’s happening?” I asked, turning to see Brody zap through the kitchen, then back to Beck who was suddenly very intent on avoiding my gaze. My heart skidded in my chest. “Are you sayingno?”

“One second, Blondie.”

Brody returned from the freezer with an ice cube tray in hand. Beck wordlessly broke out one of the cubes and placed it on the counter.

“He was going to put it in champagne,” Brody squealed.

“You don’t put ice cubes in champagne,” I replied, not quite tracking why they were showing me an ice cube, when Beck still hadn’t replied to my question.Thequestion.

“Uuuuh, wine?”

“I’m actually very relieved that you don’t know which drinks go with ice cubes,” Beck said, tipping his head at Brody.

He hadn’t said yes. He wouldn’t say yes. Whatever was happening, he wasn’t answering my question, and there really was only one reason you would avoid answering a proposal.

“I don’t even drink,” I squeaked, nerves fluttering until Beck picked up the ice cube and switched it out with his ring on my palm. The cold snapped the string on my panicked thoughts, and I gasped, staring at the small piece of ice. “Wait, that’s a ring in there.”

“Yes. I haven’t actually gotten to the speech portion of the proposal yet, but yours was very good.”

“I-” He’d bought me a ring. He’d been preparing for the same damn question. Tears welled up in my eyes as I smoothed my thumb over the melting ice cube, trying to make out the details of the golden metal inside, getting small winks of blue. “Oh, it looks like it’s pretty.”

“It is,” he chuckled. “It’s a regency era sapphire and pearl ring.”