Bianca stands near her painting, Knox’s hand resting possessively at the small of her back as she explains her technique to an admiring crowd. Across the room, Lia gestures animatedly while Vane watches her with that intense gaze that seems to miss nothing. Xavier and Mira are engaged in conversation with the critic from ArtForum, Xavier’s hand clasping Mira’s in a rare public display of affection.
Even though Theo and Victor have shown up, a friendship or perhaps something deeper has developed after that night at Julian’s penthouse. Victor still insists he’s straight despite seeming to spend a crazy amount of time with Theo, a contradiction no one mentions to his face.
And then there’s Julian, moving through the crowd with effortless grace in his custom Armani. His hair catches the gallery lighting, and I feel that familiar tightening in my chest. Eleven months of waking up beside him, of building a life together in his penthouse that gradually became our home, and I still can’t believe this is my life.
Julian catches my eye across the room and makes his way to me, slipping his arm around my waist.
“The show is a huge success,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Everything I’ve dreamed of,” I agree, meaning far more than just the gallery.
We circulate for another hour before Julian’s hand tightens slightly on my arm. “Follow me,” he whispers. “There’s something I want to show you.”
My body responds immediately to his tone. After a year together, I know what that voice usually means, and heat spreads through me at the thought of Julian pulling me away for a private celebration.
He leads me down the hallway to my office, opening the door to reveal the space transformed with dozens of flickering candles. The soft light bathes the room in a golden glow, but there’s something about the arrangement that seems deliberately planned rather than spontaneous.
My brow furrows in confusion as I step inside.
I step into my candlelit office, confused by the romantic setup. “Julian, what are you?—”
My words catch in my throat as Julian turns to face me. His eyes, usually so guarded, shine with vulnerability I’ve only glimpsed in our most private moments. Then, in one fluid motion that steals my breath, he drops to one knee.
“Elliot,” he says, his voice wavering slightly as he pulls a small velvet box from his jacket pocket.
My heart pounds against my ribs so hard I think it might break through. Time seems to slow as Julian opens the box, revealing two platinum bands nestled against black velvet, catching the candlelight in brilliant flashes.
“I claimed you for a year,” Julian says, looking up at me with such naked emotion that tears spring to my eyes. “But I want forever. Marry me, Elliot.”
A sob escapes me—not of sadness but of overwhelming joy that burns through every cell in my body. After decades of hiding, of shame, of believing I’d never have this, the man I love kneels before me, offering everything I never dared to dream possible.
“Yes,” I manage through my tears, my voice breaking on that single syllable. “God, yes, Julian.”
His hands tremble slightly as he takes the smaller band and slides it onto my finger. The cool platinum warms instantly against my skin; physical proof this isn’t a dream.
As Julian rises, I can’t help but marvel at how far I’ve come—from a man trapped in shadows, denying his own truth, to someone standing fully in the light, loved completely and fiercely for exactly who he is.
Julian cups my face, thumbs brushing away my tears. “I love you,” he whispers, the words he once found so difficult to say now flowing freely.
“I love you too,” I answer, pulling him into a kiss that tastes of salt and promise.
We return to the gallery floor hand in hand, my new ring catching the light. Julian pulls me close and kisses me deeply in front of everyone—my friends, collectors, artists, critics. And for the first time in my life, I don’t search the room for disapproving eyes. I close mine and kiss him back, our future stretching bright and boundless ahead.