For my birthday, we’d visited Martinez Beach and my childhood home. It’d been emotional, but I’d gotten excited when Máxim found an architect—who could actually take that one room off the house. Why the hell not?
I thought my dad would’ve liked Máxim. Would my mother? I didn’t know; it didn’t matter. Though Máxim’s endowment to my college in her name couldn’t have hurt things. . . .
Shortly after our move to the island, he’d made a formal proposal (with an obscenely large marquise-cut diamond ring). I’d asked him to give me more time. True to his word, he’d proposed every week.
He’d asked again yesterday.
I glanced from behind the curtain at my Russian. His gaze found and locked on mine. Look at him. I sighed.
Only one more person was left before the dean called my name! I blew Máxim a kiss, then ducked back behind the curtain. With a grin, I peeled off the cover I’d affixed to my graduation cap, revealing the hidden message I’d written. I would tip it to Máxim, make the man’s day and all.
“Ana-Lucía ‘Cat’ Martinez. Summa Cum Laude.”
As I strode across the stage, I canted my head so my Russian could read . . .