it to look real.”
He bent and kissed her again, softly.
* * *
Saffron could hardly breathe. She’d been outside for at least ten minutes, but her lungs still felt as though they couldn’t pull in enough air. Marry him? How could he have asked her to marry him? They’d spent one night together—but marriage? Did she need rescuing that bad?
She pushed through a crowd of people passing on the street to reach a bench seat, dropping the second she found one. Could she actually marry a man she didn’t even know, just to stay in New York? Just to get her career back on track, if that was even possible? She wished she could laugh it off and tell him there was no way she’d accept his proposal, but the truth was that it was the perfect solution for her. If it was the only way to give her recovery one last, real shot... Saffron gulped and turned her attention to the people walking past. Tried to lift her thoughts from Blake and failed.
What she needed was a piece of paper and her laptop. She would do what she always did—make a list of all the pros and cons, just like when she’d been offered the scholarship to dance with the New York Ballet in the first place. When she was sixteen, the list had been heavy on the pros and low on the cons, the only drawbacks coming from her parents, who wanted her to stay and didn’t understand how desperately she wanted it. This time her list might be more balanced.
Marriage had always seemed so sacred to her, so special, but... She held her breath then slowly blew it out. Dancing was all she had. It was her life. If getting that back, having the one thing in the world back that meant so much to her, meant having to get married, then she had to consider it. Dancing had been her salvation. Could Blake really help her get that back?
Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, seeing it was Claire. She’d been out of touch with most of her dancing friends for the past couple of months, finding it too hard to hear about ballet and what they were training, the pain like a knife to her heart. But Claire had been there for her, been different and she’d enjoyed being part of her arty world.
“Hey,” Saffy said when she answered.
“You’re not still there, are you?” Claire giggled. “I still can’t believe you did it. You’re usually such a prude!”
Saffy laughed. “I am not a prude! Just because you have loose morals.”
Now it was Claire in fits of laughter. “I’m not loose, I just don’t see the point in saying no to a good time. Obviously my amazing personality has rubbed off on you.”
Saffron felt better already after talking to Claire. “He...” Saffy changed her mind, not wanting to tell her. Claire was pretty open-minded, but even she might think it was crazy to consider the proposal.
“What? Tell me what you were going to say! He was amazing, wasn’t he? Tell me more!” her friend begged.
Saffy sighed, the weight of her decision hanging heavy. “He was amazing, incredible, but...” Her voice trailed off again. “He wants to meet again tonight.”
“Awesome! He’s seriously hot stuff. Not to mention he paid up big-time for my painting. I’ve already had phone calls from buyers asking about my commissions and existing work.”
If there hadn’t been the whole marriage thing to consider, she would have been more excited. Giddy over being with a man like Blake, a man who’d made her pulse race and her mind forget all about what she’d lost while she’d been with him. She’d have liked the idea of getting to know him better, dating him, not marrying him.
“Good, you deserve it. And he was lovely. I’m just not sure about everything.”
Silence stretched out between them, just long enough for it to be noticeable. “You’re thinking about having to go back home?”
“Yeah.” Saffy wasn’t lying; she just wasn’t telling her everything. Besides, Claire would be the one person to know the truth if it did happen, that she’d only met Blake the night before. She trusted her not to say anything, to keep her secret, but she just wasn’t ready to open up about it yet, not when she was still trying to process it herself.
“Do you have any more doctors to see? Any other specialists you could visit or anything?” Claire asked. “Can you afford to keep going for a bit longer?”
Saffy shook her head, even though she knew Claire couldn’t see her. This was why she was considering the marriage—this was why she had to. “No,” she murmured. “I’ve done everything. There’s no one left to see, or at least no one I can afford now, and I’m like damaged goods on the dance scene. If I dance again, there’s only one company I want to be with, and that’s a firm no right now.”
“Fight till the bitter end, Saffy. Don’t go quitting until you have no other options left.”
Saffron had no intention of giving up until the last; it had been her attitude all her life. But even she had to admit that when it was over, it was over.
“There’s one last thing I have to consider,” she told Claire. “One last option.”
“Give it a go—you owe it to yourself.”
“I’m going to go, I have a few jobs to get done,” Saffy said, wanting to end the call so she could think some more. She started to walk, the familiar twinge in her knee bearable at a walk when she was wearing heels. Barefoot it was almost unnoticeable. It was when she tried to push herself harder or dance that it really hurt. “Enjoy the weekend.”
“You, too. Give me a call tomorrow so I can hear all the juicy details from tonight.”
Saffy said goodbye and kept walking, suddenly realizing how terrible she must look. She was wearing her blue satin dress, her hair was tangled, and her heels weren’t exactly daytime wear. Thank goodness there had been no cameras flashing when she’d exited out the back of Blake’s building, through the café. Her career being over was bad enough—the last thing she needed was for the public to see pictures of her looking like she was right now.
Marriage. No matter how hard she tried to clear her head, Blake’s proposal was the only thing on her mind. And she was pretty certain that, like it or not, she was going to have to say yes.
* * *
Blake sat in his office, staring out the huge windows that bordered two sides. It was a stunning corner office—luxurious and extravagant—but it didn’t feel like his. For two decades it had been his father’s office, and he’d been in it numerous times, often when his father was trying to convince him that the company was where he should be. That it should be his dream, as if he should grow up to be a carbon copy of the man who’d raised him. But Blake had never wanted to be his father, had had dreams of his own, dreams that were still with him that he’d been forced to leave behind.
He stood and walked to the window, restless being inside and having to stare at paperwork and sign contracts. The city was alive below him, people milling everywhere, and he wished he could just disappear in the crowd and leave his responsibilities behind. But he’d made the decision to come back, and he wasn’t a quitter.
“This is your life, son. You’re my eldest, and I expect you to take over the business. To look after your family.”
The words had echoed in his mind long before his father had died, but now they were never ending.
