Struck from the Record (31 page)

“Mmm…hold on. Let me finish this chapter.”

Clay laughed. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Just one more,” she told him, not looking up.

“All right. Well, I’m going to go change for dinner.”

“Oh, right,” she said absentmindedly. “Chris’s thing is tonight. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay. Enjoy your chapter.”

She made some noise of assent but still didn’t look up at him. Whatever she was reading must have been engrossing. Though that was Andrea. All or nothing.

Clay changed into a pair of dress khakis and a thin button-up that he rolled the sleeves up on. He put on brown boat shoes. Then, he added the jewelry box to his pocket. It bulged slightly, and he frowned. He didn’t want her guessing what he had in there.

With a sigh, he pulled out a light jacket. The nights were already getting kind of cool, so it wouldn’t look too strange. Then, he stuffed the box into his jacket pocket.

Unsurprisingly, Andrea had never appeared to change.

When he walked back downstairs, she was still lounging around in a tank top and teal cuffed shorts. Her feet were bare. She twirled her long blonde hair over one shoulder, completely fixed on the book in front of her.

“I thought you said one more chapter,” Clay said. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“I did. But the last chapter ended on a cliffhanger, so I needed to know what happened next. I mean…their entire relationship was in peril.”

“Every chapter ends on a cliffhanger. That’s how they get you to stay invested.”

“Shh,” she said, waving her hand at him. “One more chapter.”

He slouched into the chair next to her without complaint. If she wanted to sit around and read, then that was fine by him. So long as they got to the restaurant in time, he didn’t mind.

After another twenty minutes, she finally sighed, stuck a bookmark into the book, and closed it. “They worked it out. I can move on with my life.”

Clay chuckled. “You realize they’re fictional, right?”

Andrea gasped. “What? They’re fictional? No way! They are real, damn it!”

“You kill me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one trying to shatter my dreams with your ‘truth,’” she said, using air quotes around the word
truth
.

“Fine. They’re real, and they’re all going to run away and live happily ever after.”

She shrugged, stood, and stretched. “For now at least. I’m sure they have to suffer a little more first.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Come upstairs with me.” Andrea took his hand, and he stood, giving her a long, slow kiss. “Mmm…definitely come upstairs with me.”

He laughed. “All right, but let’s not be late for dinner.”

“Just a teensy bit late?” she encouraged with another kiss.

“You might be able to convince me.”

She dragged him off the patio and then up the stairs. They were on the second landing when Andrea stopped abruptly. “Actually…I have another idea.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

His eyes cut to her studio. As promised, he’d put a lock on the door for her, and since they’d moved in, he hadn’t been inside. He was curious, of course, but he would never invade her privacy. This was important to her. He respected that.

“Come with me.” She walked tentatively toward the door and stopped with her hand on the handle.

“You don’t have to show me.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But…I want to.”

He nodded, understanding that she was finally unlocking the last piece of herself for him, and then she opened the door. She took a deep breath, pushing it all the way open for him. He followed her into the space.

It was perfect. So inherently Andrea that, for a second, it was as if he couldn’t breathe. The painting he had bought her hung like a trophy from the wall, but otherwise, the room was covered in canvases. One wall full of modern art was a kaleidoscope of colors. The others were dark and broody. Almost all were black and white with just a few streaks of color here and there. Still more paintings were lying on the table in the center of the room—unfinished and in need of more work.

He could almost see her in here, deciding what to work on each day. Picking up a piece at random and throwing all her thoughts and ideas onto the canvas. They didn’t have to be for anyone else. Just her.

And, thus, they were exquisite. Each and every one of them.

She had none of the pressure of showing them to the public for critiques or for the need for approval through a sale. She just had the canvas, paint, and the brush. He loved her even more in that moment. So much, his heart constricted.

“These,” she said tentatively, pointing to the bright paintings, “I think were my favorites that I did over the last couple of years…before…well, before the breakup. I tried replicating artists I admired until my work started taking on its own form.”

She bit her lip and then drew her gaze to the darkened side of the room. “These, I did while we were apart.”

It was like seeing a window into her soul. Those months apart had been brutal, dark, depressing, agonizing. He could see it in every brushstroke. In the dark lines and the dark colors and the depressing dark emptiness of the paintings.

He choked on words.

“I think my new stuff is a compromise,” she said, gesturing to the exquisite paintings on the table.

They were a compromise. Halfway between the strict structure and bright colors of the early years and the dark depressing months apart. Happy, whole, united with love. That was what her new work screamed.

And then he knew. He just knew.

Fuck it.

“Run away with me.”

“What?” she asked. She was threading her fingers together, as if anxious of what he would think of the pictures. As if he could think anything she had created was less than amazing.

“Run away with me.” He took her hand and drew her toward him.

She stuttered into his embrace and looked up at him with wary eyes. “Ha-ha. Okay, Clay.”

“No, really, Andrea,” he said without preamble, looking square in her eyes. “Marry me.”

Andrea stilled and gave a half-laugh. “Clay, come on.”

Clay just smiled, sank down onto one knee, and removed the blue Tiffany box from his jacket pocket. Her eyes rounded to the size of saucers.

“No, you come on, Andrea. Run away with me. Marry me.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. She gasped in pure shock at what was happening before her. He saw tears brimming in her eyes.

Yeah, there was no way she had seen this coming. Though, frankly, he hadn’t seen it happening this way. There was just no other way it could have happened once he was here. She’d shown him a part of her soul. And he wanted her to have his for the rest of their lives. It was only fitting.

“Clay,” she breathed. “Oh my God!”

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yes! Are you joking? Of course, yes!”

He laughed and jumped up, sweeping her into his arms. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too. Oh my God, you just proposed.”

She held her left hand out, shaking slightly, and he plucked the enormous, way over-the-top diamond out of the box. It was a giant circular diamond set with a double halo of diamonds around the center stone. The band was a simple thread of diamonds all the way around her finger. And, when he slid it into place, he smiled triumphantly. The diamond took up almost her entire tiny finger.

She really started crying then. “Oh my God, it’s gorgeous. This is exactly the ring I would have picked. How did you know?”

“Because I know you, baby,” he said, drawing her in for a kiss. “I’ve always known you. And I’ve always wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Now, it’s just official.”

“We’re official,” she said in awe. “Oh my God, we’re official.”

“You just have to do one thing when we get to Chris’s big party tonight.”

She beamed. “What’s that?”

“Tell all of them yourself, so they don’t kill me.”

“What? Why?”

He laughed and ducked his head. “Well, the party is actually for you, and I was planning on proposing to you there. So, they’re all waiting for us.”

She started laughing uncontrollably. “You sly little dog! I had no idea. Why didn’t you wait?”

“I couldn’t wait. The moment was perfect. How could I not let you know I wanted to share the rest of my life with you when you were sharing so much with me?”

“Oh, I do love you!” She threw herself into his arms. “We’re getting married!”

Andrea screamed that all over again as soon as they entered the room of her favorite restaurant. She threw her hand out to the gathered audience—Gigi, Brady, Liz, Chris, Ethan, Cash; Jamie and her husband, James; Victoria and her boyfriend, Daniel. Everyone oohed and ahhed appropriately when she showed the giant diamond around the crowd.

But it was Gigi who came up to Clay in the mayhem and smacked him on his arm. “I put all of this together, and you proposed at home?”

“Thanks, Gigi. Couldn’t have done it without your pep talk at the office.”

“Damn, I really wanted to see! Tell me everything.”

“Ask Andrea. I’m sure she’ll want to tell the story a million times.”

Gigi rushed forward to get a good look at the ring on Andrea’s finger and to ask Andrea to tell what had happened. The guys all sidled up next to him with shots in their hands, clapping him on the back in congratulations, and then they all downed the drinks.

When everyone finally settled down, they had a celebratory dinner. The girls were already scheming, and Clay let them. It was one of the best days of his life. He couldn’t have asked for any of it to go better. The girl of his dreams had said yes, and he was with friends and family. He couldn’t be happier. He had never thought this day would come, but he was glad now that it had.

Once dinner ended, Clay retrieved his fiancée—
fuck! his fiancée!
—and wished everyone good night. “Let’s go this way.”

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I had a moonlit stroll planned. Thought we could still walk the short path around the place?”

“That sounds wonderful.” She wrapped her hand around his arm and started walking through the darkened trail. “The girls are so excited. They wanted to know everything. Liz had just done this, so she went straight into wedding-planner mode, but, damn, I mean, I never thought this would happen. I don’t even know what I want.”

“Yes, you do,” he said easily.

“Maybe I do,” she agreed with a grin. “I just…well, we should probably think about a date.”

“Indeed.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think when it’s warm.”

“So, probably next spring then?”

He stopped them in their tracks underneath a streetlamp and kissed her. “I was thinking a little sooner.”

“But…”

“What about in two weeks?”

“What?” she gasped.

“Why wait?”

Her mouth was agape. “Because…there’s so much to plan. And we just got back together a couple months ago. And…”

“And all things that change nothing. I’m completely dedicated to you. You are completely dedicated to me. We already live together. Plus, we’re already going to be in Hilton Head.”

They’d planned to go on vacation after her gallery opening so that they could have a breather after his grueling work schedule. He might…or might not have had an idea that this would happen, but he obviously hadn’t mentioned that to her.

“Yeah, I mean, we
are
, but, Clay, I can’t plan a wedding in two weeks!”

“Yes, you can,” he told her simply. “Just think. No stress. No worrying about every little detail. Because we both know you’d obsess about it otherwise. Just you and me, our family, and the exchanging of rings on the beach. Run away with me.”

Her mouth opened and closed. “You really mean it?”

“I’ve had a decade with you already. I know I want this. I’m entirely sure. Why wait?”

A slow smile grew on her face, and then she threw her arms around him and kissed him. “I’m going to be a Maxwell in two weeks!”

“Baby, you’ve been a Maxwell all your life.”

Chapter 30

OFF THE MARKET

Clay had thought that having only two weeks to plan a wedding would make his spur-of-the-moment elopement a small, intimate affair. Just he and Andrea on the beach with I dos and a kiss.

Nothing fancy. Nothing extravagant.

Apparently, he had been very wrong.

“Ugh, it looks like it’s going to rain,” Andrea grumbled from his side.

She was supervising the stringing up of lights and flowers all over the pool area of the Maxwell beach house in Hilton Head. A team had been brought in to fully fit the deck into a proper reception space to Andrea’s likings.

“Then, baby,” he said, scooping her up for a kiss, “we’ll just get married in the rain.”

She wrinkled her cute little button nose. “It would ruin everything. Don’t bring rain down on our day, Clay.”

He laughed. “Nothing could ruin today.”

“All right, Andrea,” Liz called from the other side of the pool deck. “We have to get you ready. Get your ass in here.”

She scurried over toward Liz, and Clay followed.

“Not you,” Liz said, smacking him in the chest.

Andrea walked through the house to the awaiting hair and makeup team that had taken over his father’s study downstairs. It was hilarious to glimpse a group of men and women with crazy piercings and exaggerated hair dye standing around in his father’s hard, cold study.

Clay wrapped his fingers around Liz’s hand on his chest and smirked at her. “We need to talk.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I just want you to know that, even though I know you are really, really going to want to…you shouldn’t object today.”

Liz burst out laughing and snatched her hand back. “I’m already married, you idiot.”

“Look, I’m going to be officially off the market. I know it’s going to be your last chance, but for Andrea’s sake.”

“Oh, of course…for Andrea’s sake.” She pulled him into a fierce hug. “It’s really good to have you as a brother.”

“You, too…sis.”

She groaned and pulled back. “That sounds so weird.”

“It really does.”

“Good luck out there,” she said with a wink before disappearing back into the house.