“Next time I won’t give you a head start.” He playfully smacked my ass. He carried me outside to the pool deck and set me down on a plush lounge chair. He reached into his pocket and handed me the ring box again. “Now.”

I sighed. I flipped the box open and saw a folded sheet of paper sitting in the ring slot. “A note?”

“Read it.”

I unfolded it and cleared my throat. “Dear Ms. Gracen, on behalf of Vintage Consolidated Loan Company, we are writing to inform you that the balance on your outstanding mortgage and student loan accounts is officially zero. We are enclosing the history of payments that were recently...” I stopped reading aloud and read the rest to myself.

I felt tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “You paid off my house? And my student loans?” I felt like I needed to say it out loud to confirm it.

“I should’ve done it sooner,” he said softly.

“I—” I was speechless. “Thank you so much...I don’t even know what to—I can’t believe you—”

“Now you don’t need to work overtime and you can spend all your extra time with me. This was more so a gift for me than you.” He smiled. “Wasn’t that way better than a proposal?”

I laughed and let a few tears fall. “Thank you so much...”

“You’re more than welcome, but the next time I give you a gift and you even think about not opening it when I tell you to—”

I pressed my lips against his and bit down on his tongue. “If you’ve fulfilled your ‘I-must-make-Claire-do-whatever-I-say’ quota for the day, I would like to end your birthday properly. And by properly, I mean fucking you against this chair until you can’t walk...”

I slid a pair of shades over my eyes and lay back on a fluffy yellow blanket. I held my e-reader in front of my face and continued to read through one of my favorite books—Fahrenheit 451.

When I’d woken up this morning—exhausted from everything Jonathan and I had done last night, he’d suggested that we have a breakfast picnic at the park. I thought we were going to cook the food ourselves and bring it along, but we drove to the park.

Shortly after we arrived, trays of Belgian waffles, organic strawberries, bacon, eggs, and toast were delivered from an exclusive restaurant.

“Are you planning on reading all day?” He kissed my cheek.

“Will that be a problem?”

“Not until tonight.” He lay down next to me and took the e-reader from my hands. “You haven’t said much to me all morning. Are you okay?”

Why is he so good at noticing stuff like that? “I’m fine.”

He rolled on top of me and looked into my eyes. “The truth...”

I wish I could tell you...“Nothing’s wrong...I’ve just been thinking lately and I—Okay...I honestly like you a lot, and I know you said that I shouldn’t worry about...” I sighed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Why did you want to go on a date with me so badly after we’d already had sex?”

He arched his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You kept asking me to go out every day and I kept turning you down...I would think that a man would rather accept ‘no-strings-attached’ sex rather than trying to pursue—”

“I liked you the first day I saw you. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen...And there was—and still is, something about you that I couldn’t get over. When you turned me down at the grocery store and at work—not to mention standing me up after I thought you’d said yes, I decided I wouldn’t take no for an answer. The sex was exceptional, but I wanted to get to know you better.”

“But you could’ve gotten anyone.”

“I wanted you.” He kissed my lips.

“Why? You barely knew me back then. You—”

“Do you slip into these insecure ruts often?”

Is once or twice a week often? “Why?”

“Because if you do, I’m clearly not doing my job, and I need to do more to make you understand how much I care about you, how I’m willing to do anything to make you happy.”

My heart fluttered. “No, it’s not—I’m not doubting that you care. I just want to be fully prepared for when you finally wake up and realize that you and I aren’t—”

“Stop it.” He cupped my face in his hands. He pressed his forehead against mine and whispered. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever. As a matter of fact, you’ll leave me before I leave you.”

“Jona—”

“I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way so often. I’ll do better.” He kissed me and ran his fingers through my hair. “Did you have any plans for today?”

“No...I cleared my whole weekend for your birthday.”

He smiled. “In that case, I want to take you somewhere.” He rolled off of me and pulled me to my feet. “Come on.”

I was sitting in the backseat of the town car wearing a black blindfold over my eyes. I couldn’t see anything but darkness, and every time I attempted to take a peek, Jonathan playfully tapped my hand.

We’d been riding along for at least an hour and I was getting anxious, excited. I knew wherever he was taking me was going to be amazing.

“Mr. Statham, is this close enough?” Greg asked as the car slowed down.

“This is perfect. Thank you.” He made sure the blindfold was still tight and helped me out of the car. He grabbed my hand and we took several steps into the harsh blowing winds.

“We’re here...” he said. “Well, almost. We still have another two hours to go before we get there.”

“Another two hours? Why did we get out of the car?”

He laughed and lifted me up onto what felt like a short stack of steps. Then I felt him holding both of my hands.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I nodded excitedly and he slowly moved the blindfold away from my eyes.

My heart dropped as soon as I saw what the “surprise” was. I tried to keep myself calm but it was no use.

His large private plane was standing a couple hundred feet away: It was a white Citation Sovereign jet—seating capacity for nine, three thousand miles of nonstop mileage, and easily worth eighteen million.

I knew that because my girls had built that particular model over and over, because they’d gushed about how it was the top of the line in executive flight travel.

I saw the pilot descending from the cabin—waving at us, and I suddenly lost the ability to breathe. I clutched the flag charms on my necklace and my knees buckled underneath me.

“Claire?” Jonathan helped me back up. “Claire, what’s wrong? Why are you shaking?” He squeezed my hand, but I snatched it away and shut my eyes.

I tried to think about something happy, something positive, but pictures started to flash through my mind, making me remember all the things I wish I could forget: The newspaper stories, the endless media coverage, the crash site photos. My twin sister’s face.

My heart was pounding fast and loud that I could hear it over Jonathan asking what the hell was going on and calling out for help.

I tried to convince myself that this was just another nightmare, another dream that I would wake up from in any second. But as I gasped for air, as I tried to head back down the steps and back into the town car, I felt my body hitting the concrete and everything went black.

I blinked my eyes open and realized I was lying in bed at home. The clock on my wall read two o’ clock and my windows were unlatched and open, letting in a warm spring breeze.

I turned my head to the right and saw Jonathan eyeing me curiously, holding an ice pack against my shoulder. I tried to give him an assured smile, but every muscle in my body felt weak.

“What happened?” I croaked.

“You had a panic attack.” He set the ice pack down and caressed my cheek. “You fainted and fell off the platform.”

“Oh...”I tried to roll over so I wouldn’t have to see the worry in his eyes, but I couldn’t feel my left foot. I looked down and saw that it was sitting on a stack of pillows, resting underneath two bags of ice.