Art pulls me to a stand and reaches into his jacket pocket.
My vision tunnels, and my hearing dims.
“Ginny.” He turns to me fully, and his hand comes out holding a small velvet box. “From the moment I met you, I knew my life was never going to be the same. You’re the bravest, most beautiful, most stubborn woman I’ve ever known.”
Light chuckles spread over my shoulders from the crowd. But I’m frozen, and I can’t feel my hands.
“I know I haven’t always been perfect.” His voice drops, intimate, like we’re the only two people in the room. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But you stayed. You stayed when things got hard, and you stayed when I didn’t deserve it. And I don’t ever want to give you a reason to leave.”
He opens the box. The ring catches the candlelight—a diamond flanked by emeralds, because Art Penngrove does nothing small—and the room gasps collectively.
My ears are ringing, and my cheeks are burning.
Art lowers to one knee.
“Genevieve DeGrance. Will you marry me?”
A hundred people hold their breath.
And over the top of Art’s head, my gaze is stuck on Lance.
He’s looking at me. Not at Art, not at the ring, not at the spectacle. At me. And his face is…God, his face. It’s the training mat when he taught me to break a grip. It’s the waterfall when he let my hand go at seven. It’s the armchair last night when he sank inside me and moaned my name, and fell to pieces in my arms while I got glued together in his.
And I can’t do this.I can’t do this.I can’t pretend anymore.
But then my father’s face flashes in my mind. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know if he’s safe. I don’t know how to get to him.
My chest caves in, and my mouth dries, and the word I know I’ll have to say sits on the back of my tongue like a sharp knife.
I look down at Art, and then back up to Lance.
The muscle in his jaw tics. His Adam’s apple bobs. And then he dips his chin.
One small nod. Almost imperceptible. The kind of movement only someone watching for it would catch.
The knight, sacrificing himself so the queen can stay on the board.
My eyes burn and I swallow against the pain of my heart feeling like it’s shattering into a thousand pieces.
I turn back to Art.
“Yes,” I say. My voice comes out steady, and I don’t know how, because inside I’m turning to dust. “Yes, of course.”
The room erupts. Applause, cheers, the clinking of glasses. Art slides the ring onto my finger, and it’s heavy and cold and one size too big. And then he’s kissing me, one hand cupping my face, the other on my waist, and the room cheers louder and someone pops a champagne cork.
His lips are on mine, and all I can think is that his mouth doesn’t taste right. It doesn’tfeelright.
When Art pulls back, he’s beaming. He’s the happiest I’ve seen him in months. Maybe ever. And the realization guts me, because whatever else is going on, whatever games he’s playing with his father and Myrddin and the cages, this moment is real. He wanted this.
Somewhere, deep inside him, I believe maybe he wantedme. Even if it was manufactured.
And I just said yes to a man I don’t love anymore while the man I think I do watches from across the table.
Franklin is standing, clapping slowly, a satisfied smile on his face. He catches Art’s eye and raises his glass in a private toast.Mission accomplished. Optics controlled.
I’m numb.
Juliette is hugging me. “Oh my God, Ginny. Oh my God.”And I can’t tell if she’s happy or horrified, but she holds me tight, and I cling to her because she’s the only solid thing in the room.