Promise

Chapter 25: Breaking Promises

"What about me?"

When I whisked her back up, she hung on to me closer than before. The clicks of cameras were loud all around us. Gasps and hushed whispers told me we were still very much the center of attention.

"How do you fit into my world?"

"Isn't that up to you to decide?" Her voice was small and timid, like she was afraid of hearing the answer.

"What would you like to be, Robyn?"

For the first time tonight, she looked away. Her eyes darted to my chest and stayed there. It felt like death, not being able to see her face. Her eyes. Like suffocating as the walls closed in.

"Look at me," I pleaded.

She bit her lip.

"Robyn."

Still nothing.

Logic and reason were swiftly failing me at that moment because I slid my palm into hers and spun on my heel, dragging us both off the dance floor. In the background, I could vaguely make out people calling my name and even her voice asking what we were doing. We stalked all the way to an elevator and breezed inside, shutting the doors behind us.

"Are you okay?" Robyn asked, sounding slightly alarmed and bewildered. I didn't turn to look at her, just tightened my grip on her hand. To her credit, she didn't ask any more questions, just stood silently and shuffled a little closer to me.

When we reached the highest floor, I took a breath. We spilled out into the roof, looking at the night sky.

"Wow," she said breathlessly.

I finally let go of her hand.

She walked in front of me, looking out onto the city and up in the sky. We were high enough that the heavy lights from the city didn't pollute the sky, and you could actually see some stars, but the bustling city below confirmed we were still in New York. The dulcet noises of taxis honking and people screaming faintly registered in my mind.

Robyn pressed her palms against the railing, watching the traffic and commotion below us looking up and letting the wind hit her face. She smiled wide.

It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen, her smile. Because when she smiled, everything around her was a little bit brighter. Everyone seemed to look a little happier. Sunflowers were a little more yellow, the grass truly was a little greener, and the sky was a little bluer.

I wondered what it was like to look at the world the way she did, with so much happiness and enthusiasm and love and admiration. The way she found beauty in every single thing she saw.

And yet, one of the only things I found beautiful was her. I didn't want to look at anything else, however bright they were. Everything about her was sheer perfection.

"Christian, this is so beautiful," she breathed, still grinning like she was on top of the world.

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I whispered.

She didn't notice that I was talking about her. Or that I was staring at her face shamelessly. I was glad she didn't. It gave me liberty to ogle her openly.

The dusting of freckles on her cheeks were on full display again, lit up by the moonlight. I wanted to devour them.

I didn't understand how she could possibly think anything was more beautiful than her. She was the most majestic art piece I'd ever seen.

She was temptation, lust, beauty, and perfection personified.

Then there was her heart—brighter than a blinding diamond and warmer than a thousand suns.