Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Weston cleared his throat. “Sophia Rose Sterling, before I met you, I had no purpose. It didn’t take long after you stormed into my life to realize the reason I’d been lost was because you hadn’t found me yet. My purpose in life is to love you. Deep down, I knew that from the first day we stepped foot into this place. But it didn’t make sense. It took me a while to figure out that love doesn’t have to make sense; it only has to make us happy. And you do—you make me happier than I’ve ever been, Soph. I want to spend the rest of my life fighting with you just so we can make up. And I want the rest of my life to start today. So, will you please do me the honor of marrying me, because ‘I would not wish any companion in the world but you’?”
Tears streamed down my cheeks. I don’t know why, but I got down on my knees and pressed my forehead to his. “How can I say no, when you finally quoted Shakespeare right? Yes! Yes! I’ll marry you.”
Weston slipped the most gorgeous, cushion-cut diamond onto my finger. The thousands of lights illuminating the tree above us dimmed in comparison to its sparkle.
In true Weston style, he reached around my neck and squeezed hard, bringing my lips to crash against his. “Good. Now shut up and give me that mouth.”
He kissed me in the middle of the lobby, in front of the big Christmas tree, long and hard. When we finally came up for air, I heard people clapping. It took a few seconds for it to register that they were applauding for us. People had been watching the proposal. My eyes came into focus as I looked around.
Oh my God! Mr. Thorne is here.
And…is that… I blinked a few times. “Is that…?”
Weston smiled. “Scarlett. It is. I flew her in last night to ask her permission to propose. I figured I wouldn’t have much luck with your father, and you value her opinion more anyway.”
We were still both kneeling on the floor, so Weston helped me up. Scarlett and Mr. Thorne congratulated us, as well as a ton of the staff.
I looked up at Weston, still in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did all this. Do you remember the story I told you about the last time a tree was in this lobby?”
“I do,” he said. “The three of them used to decorate a big tree together, right here in this very spot. Grace always hoped our grandfathers would come around some day, and they could all be friends and do it again. That never happened, so she never put another tree in here. That’s why I did this. Our grandfathers are too stubborn to come around, but I think Grace Copeland would be happy that the Sterlings and the Lockwoods have finally made friends again.”
I smiled. “She would be. I’m sure of it.”
Weston reached into his coat pocket. “Oh, I almost forgot. I had the lights hung so it would look nice for you, but we’re going to decorate it together. Just like they used to. There’re a couple of dozen crates of ornaments stashed behind the tree. But I have the first one for you to hang.”
“You do?”
He unwrapped a glass ball from a wad of newspaper and handed it to me.
“Louis gave Grace this as a gift one year. He found it in storage yesterday. If I’d had any doubt that proposing to you in front of this tree was the right decision, this ornament solidified that it was meant to be.”
I looked down at the Christmas ball, which was personalized like many ornaments still are today. Painted in silver were three stick figures holding hands, the two on the ends a bit bigger than the middle one, and below that, names were painted.
Sterling—Copeland—Lockwood
Forever
“That’s us, with Grace Copeland bringing us together, Soph.”
“Oh my God! You’re right!”
Weston leaned down and brushed his lips with mine. “Of course I am. I’m always right.”
I hung the ornament on the tree and wrapped my arms around his neck. “You know. I don’t like the ring you picked out, and I think you could have used a bit more creativity in your proposal. Oh, and the tree…it’s pretty lame.”
Weston’s eyes widened. “I hope you’re joking.”
“I’m not.” I tried to hide my smirk, but failed. “Perhaps we should fight about it later when we get home.”
My fiancé’s eyes darkened. “Why wait that long? Meet me in the laundry room in five minutes…”