Page 242 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

From the look on Drea’s face, I’m not the only one who’s eager to call it a day. For someone who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Scar, she sure didn’t look like she didn’t care when she saw him come in earlier.

She didn’t have it in her to pretend like this was no big deal and booked it to the back door leading to the alley the second they made eye contact across the room.

I expected her fiancé to chase after her. But Lucian was in the middle of telling his life story to an uninterested stranger and didn’t notice. Scar, however, didn’t miss a beat, immediately following after her.

She came back inside a half hour later, but Scar was nowhere in sight. I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night.

“There’s my girl.” A large hand wraps around my wrist and spins me around.

I come face-to-face with Kane, my lips automatically curling into a smile when he brings my knuckles to his mouth and kisses them.

“How are you feeling?” He uses his grip on my hand to tug me to his chest.

“Like I’m on top of the world.”

His sexy smirk sends shivers down my spine. “Speaking of being on top…” He moves closer to whisper against my mouth, “You need to see the rooftop of this place.”

Not where I thought this was going.

Next thing I know, he’s pulling on my hand and guiding me to the stairwell by the back door.

“Now?” I chuckle, even though I know I’d follow this man to the ends of the earth if he asked me to.

“Yes, now. The view is fucking amazing.” His enthusiasm is as adorable as it is confusing. He seems in a rush to get to that rooftop.

I don’t protest, shadowing Kane up the stairs and asking myself if I’ve officially peaked.

This night.

Right here.

This just might be the happiest I’ve ever been.

It doesn’t get any better than this, I’m sure of it.

“Ladies first.” Kane gestures to lead the way, and I comply without a second thought, rounding him.

That’s when he pushes the door open.

And I realize I couldn’t have been more wrong.

It does get better.

The first thing I notice are the city lights twinkling in the distance. My focus falls to the sea of candles spread out on the rooftop and the trail of white rose petals on the ground.

At the end of the path is a gorgeous flower arch—that’s also adorned with roses—and a canvas propped up on an easel.

Four words are engraved on the canvas.

Four words I’ll never forget.

Will you marry me?

I attempt to hold back my tears in order to keep them from blinding me and committing this moment to memory.

But there’s no point.

I’m already bawling my eyes out.

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