LEVEL WITH ME: BONUS EPILOGUE
CASSANDRA—SIX MONTHS LATER
A horn blared, making me jump.
“Look at you, country girl,” Blake teased. We were standing on the curb jam-packed with people waiting to cross 2nd Avenue in downtown Seattle.
“Country—” I elbowed him, stifling a laugh. “Excuse me, just because I’ve been living in a small town doesn’t mean I’m a country girl now.”
We’d arrived last night, and while I’d lived in Manhattan less than two years ago, I had to admit, being amongst the rush of angry traffic and soaring skyscrapers was jarring coming straight from Quince Valley. Being amongst all these people—a group of laughing twentysomethings looking like they were on their way to the bar on one side, and several corporate types glued to their phones on the other—it didn’t hold the same appeal as it used to.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe in the big city,” Blake said, wrapping his arm around me with a grin.
I huffed, trying not to indulge him by laughing, and pulled my trench coat tighter against my body. But I leaned into Blake’s warm body just the same. Then I pulled his arm down a little to angle the umbrella over our heads. Most of it was nerves, but also, I didn’t want to show up to this dinner looking like I’d just gone for a swim with my clothes on. The rain hadn’t let up in the twenty-four hours since we’d touched down last night; and ‘touched’ down was a generous way of putting it. I’d nearly thrown up as the plane jogged through the thick gray clouds on its approach to Seattle, bouncing us around like dice in a cup before bumping hard onto the runway, making a woman across the aisle from us shriek.
Now, heading to the restaurant we were meeting Blake’s brothers, my stomach was still clenching hard, only this time it was nerves at meeting Connor and Mitch for the first time. I wasn’t so worried about Connor—I’d talked to him and his son Art on a video call once before, over the holidays. He’d been kind and lovely, and Art had been adorable, bouncing around excitedly, showing us his Christmas haul.
But Mitch—Mitch was an enigma. All I knew was he was a corporate type; which shouldn’t have been intimidating given my past employment on Wall Street, and extremely rich, which again, Wall Street. But I’d looked him up, and discovered that despite Blake’s reassurances that he was a softie at heart, the man had a reputation for being a ruthless bastard.
“I dunno.” Blake shrugged as we crossed the rain-slicked street, lights reflecting white, red, and green in the puddles. “I kind of like the thought of you as a country girl. You could wear one of those stripy checked dresses—what’s that called?”
“Gingham?” I guessed as we stepped up on the curb.
“Yeah, gingham.” He made a sexy growling noise, and if I wasn’t so nervous, I’d have laughed. “A short little gingham dress that shows off those gams.”
“Gams?! Is this what happens to you when you’re back in the city? You turn into a 1940s noir detective. Why not say legs like everybody else?”
Blake’s arm was curled around my shoulder now, and he gave me a squeeze. “Cass, they’re going to love you.”
My heart swelled. Blake knew I got testy when I was nervous. I looked up at him. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” He kissed my temple as we walked, a skill I still didn’t know how he managed but adored, like everything about this man.
Then Blake pointed his chin. “There it is.”
I followed his gaze to a tall black tower occupying an entire city block up ahead.
“Oh God,” I swallowed. “Why couldn’t we have just met down at the market? Or back home in Quince Valley?”
“You want to cancel?” Blake stopped and cupped his hand on my jaw. “I’m happy to hide out and order room service back at the hotel.
For a moment, my shoulders relaxed, my chest filling with warmth. I wanted desperately to cancel. Cozying up in bed with him in the hotel room, watching Sleepless in Seattle on the TV instead of actually going out in real Seattle, sounded like heaven. But as I looked up at Blake, taking in how handsome he looked in his suit jacket and open coat, his hair combed back and beard neatly trimmed, I shook my head. “No.”
This trip was my idea. Blake knew my whole family. Our whole lives seemed to revolve around my family, and I’d never once met his.
“This is important,” I said. “I’ve wanted to meet your brothers since we first met. Them and your mom—they’re everything to you, so they are to me too.”
We’d already met Blake’s mother this afternoon. My heart had broken when I saw her looking at her son as if it was the first time she’d laid eyes on him. But Blake had smiled kindly, introducing himself to his mother like it was no big deal. By the end of the visit, she knew my name, at least for now, and I’d learned all about her vegetable garden she couldn’t wait to get back to at her house, which must have been the one she’d raised Blake in. Most of all, I knew all about her three little boys, who she said I just had to meet when they came home from school.
When we’d finished our tea, she’d shown me the romance book she’d tucked against her leg in her wheelchair. “You two remind me of them,” she said, her voice a little wistful. “If he were a laird and you a lady,” she winked.
“Ma’am, I’m most definitely a lady,” I said, in mock offence, and she’d laughed so freely Blake had looked overcome, squeezing my hand hard.
“Can you tell me the story about Blake at his little league game last week again?” I asked.
Blake’s mom had beamed, launching into the decade’s old story once more.
Now, as I looked up at this man, I marveled at the thought that I’d really believed I’d loved someone else before him. I’d had no idea what love was before Blake Harrington.
“They’re everything to me, it’s true, but you are too,” Blake said, tilting my chin up with his knuckle. “This is totally optional, okay? It’s not like my brothers are going anywhere.”
“You said it was a miracle we’d pinned Mitch down,” I said, smoothing his lapels.
It was Mitch who’d suggested we meet at Skyline, a restaurant at the penthouse of the Techplex Tower. Blake had said something about it being good food, and good research for L’Aubergine back home. But according to the internet search I’d done while I was looking up Mitch Harrington, Skyline was also known for being secluded and outrageously high end, popular with celebrities and multi-millionaires.
Like Blake’s brother.
“I have to warn you,” Blake had said back at the hotel as we were getting ready for dinner. “Mitch has the kind of personality that rubs some people the wrong way.” He said it would make sense when I met him.
Then I’d gotten distracted by the care Blake was putting into getting dressed in his tux. He looked so serious, and I got the feeling there was something else going on—nerves at seeing his family, maybe. It had been a while.
He smiled when he caught me staring at him. “What?”
“You are handsome as hell, Blake Harrington, you know that?”
“Only because you say so,” he said.
Later, when I emerged from the bathroom in my dress—a silky royal blue number with a deep V-neck and long, fluted skirt—his jaw actually dropped. Everything fell away except the way his hands bunched in the fabric felt as he slid it up my thighs, kissing my neck.
Then he’d glanced at the time and cursed.
“Later,” I promised him, winking.
“It’s true,” Blake said now. “It’s impossible to get Mitch to show up for anything if it’s not life or death. Which means he must really want to meet you.” Blake brushed a strand of my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “He didn’t even show this much interest in Lila when I first told him about her. In fact, he only met her once, at the wedding.”
“He didn’t know about the whole fake marriage thing though, did he?”
“I never told him, but I’m pretty sure he knew. Just like I’m pretty sure he knows how serious I am about you.”
I felt Blake tense just slightly against me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think my earlier assessment was correct, that he was nervous too. Then it passed, and Blake ran a thumb along my cheek, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that surprised me. He tilted his face down to kiss me, sending fireworks through me. For a moment, I focused only on the feeling of being here, under this umbrella, with the man I loved more than life itself.
This would be fine. How could I be scared with Blake at my side?
“We could always be late,” he murmured when he finally pulled away. He glanced back toward our hotel and I shoved him playfully.
“Never.”
He grinned. Then he lowered the umbrella, lifting a hand. “Would you look at that? The rain stopped.”
I looked up at the sky. The clouds had thinned while we’d been standing here, revealing a night sky with the faintest hint of stars. It was nothing like the stars we could see at home, but it was still magical, somehow.
“See?” I said. “It’s the perfect night to eat on the thousandth floor.”
Blake laughed, and we walked the rest of the way, chatting about things back home. How my dad was talking about leaving again. How I’d promised to send Reese photos of the restaurant and the menu, which wasn’t posted online. I skirted the things I’d been worrying about, and I knew Blake knew it. But unlike how he usually coaxed them out of me, tonight Blake didn’t push, just held my hand as we crossed the street to our destination.
But when we reached the concrete water feature out front, my stomach went to jagged nerves once more.
“Last chance to bail,” Blake said as we reached the doors, pumping my hand in a squeeze. Maybe it wasn’t nerves for him. I wondered, for the first time tonight, if it was something else. Excitement, maybe? He was almost… jittery.
“Nope, I’m ready.” I said. “Besides, isn’t that your brother in the lobby?”
Through the glass, a man stood with a boy of about twelve in the glass and mirror lobby, next to an enormous statue of what looked to be a giant chrome game controller.
“Yo!” Blake hollered as we entered the lobby, and the boy came running over, wrapping his uncle in a gangly hug.
When he reached us, Connor reached his hand out to shake mine. “Nice to meet you in person, Cassandra.”
“Cass, please!” I said, hugging him instead.
He laughed, but hugged back. He was almost as tall as Blake, and almost as handsome, too. Probably the same amount of handsome, but I was biased. His hair was darker, and he didn’t have the beard, but when he grinned, there were those dimples I loved so much on Blake.
Art was almost twelve, already up to his father’s shoulder, and blessed with the same green eyes and thick dark hair as his father, and shook my hand nervously as the two brothers embraced in a back-slapping reunion.
Finally, introductions done, Connor rubbed his hands together. “You guys ready?”
“I am,” Art said, practically bouncing on his toes.
As Connor punched the elevator button, I looked to Art. “You ever been to a restaurant on the top of a building?”
“No. I’m kinda scared of heights,” he confessed. “Thank goodness IHOP is on the ground floor.”
He said it so seriously, the rest of us burst out laughing. Art grinned, clearly not really getting it, but pleased he’d made the adults laugh.
Laughing felt good, like a release of tension. This was going to be great, I decided, shoving down the edge of my nerves.
“Anyway, being way up there will be worth it,” Art said to me as the elevator dinged. “I’ve never seen a real live prop—”
“Art,” Connor interjected sharply as we stepped through the opened doors. “Why don’t you tell these two about your win at the science fair last week?”
I glanced over at Blake, but Blake was looking intently at Art as he waxed on about baking soda volcanoes.
The elevator was as opulent as the lobby had been, oversized with floor to ceiling mirrors and a mini chandelier that jingled softly as we rose silently to the top floor.
“Why am I so nervous?” I asked Blake under my breath.
He didn’t answer, only squeezed my hand.
Why are you so nervous, Blake?
As the elevator slowed, I pulled my shoulders back, putting on my CEO face. I met high-profile hotel guests from all over the world every day. Conner and Art were in the bag—I could handle meeting my boyfriend’s mysterious millionaire brother.
The elevator dinged, and I readied myself to greet the bustle of the restaurant when the doors opened, promising myself I would refrain from scanning the crowd for famous faces.
But when the doors slid open, I froze.
The restaurant was dark.
A beat passed. I looked at Blake, but the elevator doors began to close and he pulled me out by our intertwined hands. “Wait,” I said. “We must be on the wrong floor.”
That was it. We just needed to get back on and press the right button. I went to turn, but Blake squeezed my hand in the dark.
“No,” he said, his voice soft. “This is it.”
Suddenly, Blake’s calm voice and warm hand were the only thing keeping me from freaking out.
“Blake, what’s happening?”
Was this something the restaurant did? I could hardly find anything on its austere black website except a few images of plated food and a candlelit table with the nighttime Seattle skyline behind it. But right now, I couldn’t even see that.
It was pitch black.
Then, notes on a piano. The soft sound of a drum brush. Then a deep male voice; a line I recognized as Louis Armstrong’s A Kiss to Build a Dream on. This song was on the Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack. I’d made Blake suffer through it for the past week ahead of coming here.
Something tickled up my spine, the nerves in my stomach exploding now.
A spotlight lit up a band in front of us, lighting up a band: an older Black man in a fedora on a mic. Another man on a trumpet. A third at the drums.
The trumpet blared.
“This way,” Blake said, leading me toward the band.
“Blake,” I whispered, but he kept looking forward, his hand slipping slightly in mine. Was he sweating?
Finally, I thought I understood. Mitch had set this up for us. He’d upgraded our tickets to first class, Blake had said, rolling his eyes at the airport while my jaw had dropped at his generosity. So why not a grand entrance?
I looked back, but couldn’t see Connor and Art in the dark behind us.
Then, up ahead, thick velvet drapes pulled apart, revealing the lights of downtown Seattle, twinkling in the now clear sky. In front of that was a table, a waiter leaning over it and lighting a candle at its center.
The waiter smiled. “Welcome Ms. Kelly. Mr. Harrington.”
Blake pulled my chair out for me. I tried to meet his eye, whispering, “Blake, what is happening!”
This wasn’t just an entrance. This was something else.
My heart thudded in my chest. “Blake!”
Finally, he looked at me. “It seemed like the right time. And the right way. I already hung a banner on the bridge at home, and met you on our island, and I didn’t know what else to do, so when you wanted to come here, to my hometown, I thought this would be the perfect time.”
My hands began to shake. Blake smiled as he brought his hand to his pocket. No, it couldn’t be… we hadn’t talked about this. He hadn’t revealed any plans…
A new spotlight lit up overhead, and I squinted against the glare. When I looked back at Blake, I couldn’t see anything except him, down on one knee, with a navy velvet box in his hand.
My heart went to my throat.
Blake flipped open the box to reveal a glittering diamond ring, dotted on either side with emerald, the color of trees in the sun.
I sucked in a breath, picturing the trees along the Quince.
Blake, standing on our island.
I was still spinning, still shocked, not willing to believe what was happening.
“Cassandra Kelly,” Blake said. “I love you more than I know how to say. More than I know how to show you, though I’m trying. You deserve the romcom ending. The part where the guy asks the love of his life to marry him, with all the pomp and fanfare she deserves.”
The band softened behind us.
“So I’m asking you, Cassandra, if you’ll do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Blake,” I whispered. My heart filled; expanded; grew to a thousand times its size. Blake had been planning this since the day I came back to him on that island. He’d talked about going to Seattle someday on the boat back to the shore. Asked me later what my favorite movie soundtrack was. Bought me the dress I was wearing after I saw it in a magazine. I’d told him I wanted to go to Seattle, but he’d been waiting for me to do it. To show him I was ready.
I knew he was doing all this to make up for having been married before. That this was his do-over. I wish I’d met you years ago, he told me after we’d gotten back together. All those wasted years without you.
“They weren’t wasted,” I’d told him, trailing my hands along his chest. “They were you, getting to know what you really wanted. Me, growing into myself. We met at the perfect time, in the most absurd way, and it was kismet, all of it.”
“Of course I’ll marry you, Blake Harrington,” I whispered now, my eyes filling with tears. “How could I ever do anything else?”
Blake picked me up, whirling me around, kissing me while the band exploded in a gorgeous rendition of Stardust, just like Nat King Cole’s in Sleepless.
“I love you, Cass,” he said into my hair. “I love you I love you I love you.”
“I love you too, Blake,” I whispered back, never meaning anything more.
Vaguely, I noticed cheering, and turned to see a small crowd—waitstaff, plus Connor, Art, and another man, slightly in the shadows. Mitch.
More lights came on, illuminating a projector screen on the other side of the room, where my whole family sat in the living room at Jude’s house. They hooted and cheered, popping champagne.
I pressed my hands over my mouth. “They’re all there!” Dad, Jude and Jack. Eli, standing behind a chair, and on it, Chelsea, gripping a chair arm with one hand as if she might fall, holding onto Eli’s hand on her shoulder with the other. My heart went to my throat.
Only Griff was missing, but of course he was.
“Congratulations, you two,” Eli said.
I waved, crying, thanking each of them. Telling them how much I loved them. After a few minutes, Eli said, “Now go eat, we’ll see you when you get home.”
I wrapped my arms around Blake. “You brought my family,” I said, touched beyond belief, on top of everything.
Blake kissed me, long and hard, while the lights dimmed back down to glowing.
After a moment, from the corner of my eye, I saw the man in the shadows striding toward us. Blake finally let me go, but kept his arm looped around my waist. My pillar.
Mitch was like a third, darker version of Blake and Connor. Unlike the other two, with their easy smiles, his expression was criminally serious.
But Mitch nodded when Blake introduced him, thrusting his hand out to meet mine. “Cassandra,” he said, his voice deep and almost curt.
“I’ve heard… not very much about you,” I admitted, and Blake threw his head back and laughed.
Mitch’s only response was to toss a sideways glance at his brother. “Blake’s told me all about you.”
I glanced at Blake, having a hard time picturing the two of them having a heart to heart, but they must have talked to plan this. Blake winked at me.
“I guess you had something to do with the restaurant shutting down?” I asked, then felt ridiculous, because of course he did.
Blake wrapped an arm around me. “It’s his restaurant, sweetheart. He closes it down on a Tuesday if he doesn’t feel like company, don’t you, Mitch?”
“Well, congratulations,” Mitch said to us both. “I trust you’ll have many years of happiness.”
I almost wanted to laugh. It felt like the man didn’t know how to be congratulatory, though I got the sense he was trying his best.
“You’ll let me know when you’re ready?” Mitch asked Blake. Grunted, more like. When Blake nodded, he spun on his heel and disappeared.
Blake tipped an imaginary hat, sighing.
We insisted Connor and Art join us for dinner. Over the next hour, I ate so much food I felt like I might burst. Each dish was more gorgeous and flavorful than the last. The band played any song we asked—even Raffi’s Bananaphone, on Connor’s dare to Art, which made us all fall over laughing.
Finally, Art after the most spectacular crème brûlée of my life, and a long goodbye with the servers, the band, and a fighting-yawns Art, we met Mitch back at the elevator. But instead of going down, Mitch pressed the up button.
“There’s something else?” I asked, confused.
Blake only smiled.
When we pushed out onto the roof, I was agog to see a sleek black helicopter on a helipad, its lights blinking. An actual helicopter, which began powering up as I walked, stunned, toward it.
“Are you serious?” I asked Mitch, looking to Blake for confirmation.
“She’s yours for as long as you want her,” Mitch said, shouting now over the roar of the engine and rotors.
The clouds were almost all gone, and even though my stomach twisted remembering the flight here, I couldn’t help the excitement spreading through me at the thought of our own private helicopter tour of this sparkling city.
Blake nodded. “Thanks, Mitch. See you next week.”
Then Mitch was gone, without so much as a goodbye.
“See?” Blake shouted as he strode with me toward the open door of the helicopter. “No people skills. But lending us his bird—that’s something he only does for people he loves.”
“A big softie,” I shouted back, laughing, but still too caught up in the incredibleness of this evening.
When we got inside, Blake handed me a headset and put his own on.
The pilot was talking into his radio, tapping at the instruments before him.
“What did you mean, see you next week?” I asked, only now registering Blake’s words. My voice was tinny in my ear through the mic.
But it wasn’t Blake who responded. “Mitch is moving to Quince Valley for a couple of months,” the pilot said. “Needs to get out of the public eye for a bit.”
I thought I was done being surprised, but at the sound of that gravelly voice, distinctive even through the headphones, my jaw dropped. “Griff?”
My burly brother turned around from the pilot seat, grinning. “Howdy, sis. I hear congrats are in order.”
“Oh my God!” I hadn’t seen Griff in a month. More, maybe. I laughed and so did he, clearly delighted to have been in on the surprise. I looked down at the series of buckles I’d just affixed to my body, wanting to take them off again so I could hug him. “I’ll be at Jack’s birthday next week,” Griff said. “You can have plenty of stinky-ass Griff hugs then.”
I laughed once more, still reeling, and still trying to piece things together. “You look cleaner than I’ve ever seen you,” I said. Then, “So wait, do you work for Blake’s brother?”
Griff grinned. “Not really.” He was being completely opaque, as usual.
I looked over at Blake, who shrugged. “Mitch only told me he’d been working on some contracts”—he lifted his fingers in air quotes at that last word—“with your brother last week.”
I could hear Griffin whistling through my headphones. We wouldn’t get any more out of him, I knew.
“This is unreal,” I said, as Blake rested his hand comfortably on my thigh. Even now, with my head still spinning, the feel of his warm hand on the silk of my dress sent heat skittering through me. I’d get him back for keeping this all from me later, when we were back in our room.
I’d get him back for hours.
Blake grinned, as if he knew what I was thinking. I mock glared at him, but as the engine rose to a roar, I leaned back and pressed my hand to my forehead, blissful but slightly overwhelmed by the number and intensity of surprises tonight had held. Only this time, I felt the press of metal against my skin.
My ring.
I was marrying Blake. Blake was next to me. Blake had planned all of this for us.
“Thank you,” I said, knowing he’d been the one to get Griff connected with this whole night too, somehow. Then I pulled down my headset and kissed my fiancé, long and deep.
“Ugh, gross,” Griff’s voice crackled once I pulled my headset back on. “Where are we headed, your room?”
I laughed. “Where are we headed, Blake?”
“Wherever you want to go, Cass. Mount Baker? Vancouver? One of those islands over there?” he pointed to the San Juan Islands in the inky Pacific. While they were bigger than our island in the river by a long, long shot, I didn’t miss the reference.
I sighed, leaning my headphones against his shoulder and grinning happily. “I want to go home with you, to start our life together.” I said, completely honestly. “But until then, how about we just fly around together, under the stars?”
“To the moon then?” Griff said.
“Yes,” I said, my eyes on Blake’s. “To the moon.”
~~~