Mag-log inGabby
The grand ballroom of the St. Michael’s Estate smelled of imported white orchids, vintage champagne, and suffocating wealth. A string quartet played softly in the corner, while crystal chandeliers threw glittered light over dozens of round tables draped in silk.
I walked in with my fingers laced tightly through Nathan’s. The heavy silk of my crimson dress swished against my calves with every step, a striking contrast to the conservative pastel gowns filling the room. The moment we passed the arched doorway, the collective hum of high-society chatter dropped by half. Eyes swept toward us. Whispers rippled through the tables like a sudden breeze.
"Relax your shoulders, sweetheart," Nathan murmured, his voice a low, velvet rasp near my ear. He shifted his hand to the small of my back, his broad palm pressing gently through the silk, anchoring me against his side. "You look like a queen about to claim her throne. Act like it."
A slow breath filled my lungs. The heat of his hand radiated through my spine, sending a pleasant shiver straight down to my toes. I lifted my chin, threw my shoulders back, and let a subtle, enigmatic smile rest on my lips.
Before we could reach the bar, a sharp, frantic voice cut through the music.
"Nathan!"
A slender woman in a shimmering ice-blue designer gown pushed her way through a cluster of guests. Her dark hair was styled into an immaculate updraft, her neck draped in diamonds, but her face was flushed with frantic anger.
Lina. The ex-girlfriend Nathan had dumped on the phone outside.
"Nathan, thank God!" Lina gasped, skidding to a halt in front of us, completely ignoring me. "I drove across town like a maniac! You turned off your phone—you wouldn't let me explain! That recording was a complete misunderstanding, babe, I swear—!"
Nathan didn't even blink. His face stayed completely calm, his dark eyes unbothered, his jaw relaxed. He casually picked up two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and handed one to me.
"Lina," Nathan said smoothly, taking a slow sip of his drink. "You're ruining the ambiance."
Lina’s eyes snapped sideways to me, dragging down the plunge of my neckline, over my hips, and down to my heels. Her lip curled into a sneer of pure, desperate condescension.
"And what is this?" Lina sneered, gesturing wildly at me. "Is this a joke, Nathan? You dump me over a misunderstanding and pick up some... oversized random woman on the street to replace me at your cousin's wedding? Look at her! She doesn't belong in our circle! She's taking up half the room!"
The room around us went dead quiet. Nearby guests turned their heads, sipping champagne while waiting for the trainwreck to unfold.
Old instincts flared deep in my stomach—the urge to shrink, to look down at my shoes, to feel ashamed of the space I occupied. But Nathan remained entirely unfazed. He didn't raise his voice or show a single trace of anger. He simply swirled his champagne glass, his expression lazy, amused, and completely in control.
"You're right about one thing, Lina," Nathan murmured softly, setting his champagne glass down on a nearby table. "She does take up the room. And she's the only thing in it worth looking at."
Without another word to Lina, Nathan reached into the inner breast pocket of his charcoal blazer.
Lina’s eyes went wide as she saw his hand move. A sudden flare of hope crossed her face. "Nathan... is that... did you buy that for me?"
Nathan pulled out a small, heavy red velvet box.
Lina gasped, stepping forward with her hands reaching out. "I knew it! I knew you brought me here to propose! Oh, babe, I forgive you, let's just—"
Nathan didn't even look at her.
With effortless grace, he stepped right past Lina as if she were a piece of furniture. He turned to face me directly, his dark, quiet eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath slam into the back of my throat.
Slowly, calmly, Nathan dropped down onto one knee on the polished marble floor in front of me.
Gasps erupted across the ballroom. Glassware clinked softly as guests stood up from their tables. Across the room, I caught sight of Joel, his jaw hanging open in absolute, horrified shock.
"Nathan... what are you doing?" I whispered, my heart hammering violently against my ribs, my voice barely audible over the sudden quiet of the room.
Nathan flicked the velvet box open with his thumb.
Bathed under the light of the crystal chandelier, a flawless, three-carat oval diamond threw back brilliant, blinding sparks of light. It was a ring worth a small fortune.
Lina let out a shrill, strangled shriek behind him. "Nathan! No! That ring was meant for ME!"
Nathan ignored her entirely. He reached up, his long, warm fingers wrapping gently around my trembling hand, lifting my knuckles toward his lips.
“Gabriella,” Nathan said, his deep, smooth voice carrying clearly through the silent ballroom. “I spent my life looking for someone who takes up space in the world without apology.” His voice dropped, quieter but still clear. “You’re breathtaking, gorgeous and completely unforgettable. And I don’t want to live another day without you. Will you marry me?”
My brain stalled. The air left my lungs completely. I stared down at the handsome, calm man kneeling at my feet, feeling the heavy, electric warmth of his hand holding mine, while every single person in Joel's family watched in utter, stunned disbelief.
Was this some dream that had gone on for way too long? Well, I think it’s time to wake up, because this wasn’t funny anymore.
Chapter 6GabbyThe grand ballroom of the St. Michael’s Estate smelled of imported white orchids, vintage champagne, and suffocating wealth. A string quartet played softly in the corner, while crystal chandeliers threw glittered light over dozens of round tables draped in silk.I walked in with my fingers laced tightly through Nathan’s. The heavy silk of my crimson dress swished against my calves with every step, a striking contrast to the conservative pastel gowns filling the room. The moment we passed the arched doorway, the collective hum of high-society chatter dropped by half. Eyes swept toward us. Whispers rippled through the tables like a sudden breeze."Relax your shoulders, sweetheart," Nathan murmured, his voice a low, velvet rasp near my ear. He shifted his hand to the small of my back, his broad palm pressing gently through the silk, anchoring me against his side. "You look like a queen about to claim her throne. Act like it."A slow breath filled my lungs. The heat of his
GabbyThe grand glass doors of St. Michael’s swung shut behind us, cutting off the stunned murmurs of the congregation. The bright afternoon light washed over the stone courtyard, but my mind was spinning so fast the world felt completely out of focus.I stopped dead on the top step, snatched my arm back from Nathan’s grasp, and whirled around to face him."Your cousin?!" I choked out, my voice dropping into an urgent, furious whisper. "You are Joel’s cousin?!"Nathan didn't blink. He casually slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored charcoal trousers, his dark eyes calmly tracing the flush spreading across my chest and cheeks."Second cousin, technically," he corrected smoothly, his voice a cool, velvet rumble. "My father and his mother share a grandfather. But yes. Family.""Are you insane?!" My hands flew up to my temples as I took a step back on my heels. "I hired a random guy outside a church to throw off my toxic ex-boyfriend! I didn't hire his relative! Do you have any i
GabbyWe exchanged pleasantries. He told me his name was Nathan, and I told him mine was Gabriella.The heavy oak doors of St. Michael’s Church groaned open, releasing a draft of cool air scented with frankincense, polished mahogany, and fresh white lilies.I slid my hand into the crook of my fake fiancé’s arm. The muscle beneath his charcoal suit felt like carved granite. His steady heat radiated against my bare side, anchoring me as my four-inch heels clicked against the polished marble floor.The organ music echoed off the vaulted ceiling, filling the high nave. But as we stepped past the rear pews, the music seemed to drown under a sudden, wave-like murmur that rippled through the seated guests.Heads turned. Conversations faltered. Eyebrows shot up toward high stone arches.In a sea of pastel chiffons, conservative navy suits, and traditional wedding attire, my crimson red silk dress flared like a strike of lightning. The plunging neckline and fitted silhouette hid nothing of my
NathanI stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the private restroom of Le Cirque restaurant, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the high stained-glass window, reflecting off the polished marble sink.I pulled my secondary phone from my inner pocket, set it on the edge of the counter, and tapped the record button. I cleared my throat, dragging a deep breath into my lungs, and practiced under my breath, my voice low, careful, and rehearsed.“Lina, we’ve been together for almost a year now, and you’re the only woman I want by my side for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”“You got this, man,” a stranger washing his hands offered with a warm, encouraging smile as he walked toward the door. “She’s a lucky woman.”I forced a tight, polite nod. Once the door clicked shut, I reached into the breast pocket of my charcoal blazer and pulled out the small red velvet box. I flicked it open. The overhead light caught the three-carat, flawless, oval
GabbyAn hour later, a yellow cab dropped me outside Maison de L'Amour, an ultra-exclusive boutique nestled in Soho. It was the kind of store where champagne was served at the door, velvet curtains hung from the ceiling, and none of the racks displayed price tags because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.I pushed through the glass door, the heavy chime ringing overhead. The sales associate behind the marble counter—a tall, impeccably dressed woman with a sharp bob—immediately looked up. Her eyes did a rapid, practiced sweep over my frame, taking in my oversized sweater, the flare of my hips, and my curves.In the past, that assessing look would have made me fold inward. Today, I threw my shoulders back, met her gaze head-on, and walked straight up to her.“Welcome,” she said, her smile polite but distant. “Looking for something specific?”“I need a dress for a Saturday wedding,” I replied, my voice smooth, loud, and unwavering. “Something short. Something crimson red. And it
GabbyGod, I’m so tired of people seeing my size before they ever see me. And I’m especially deeply tired of men.I sat tucked into the farthest, darkest corner of The Bean & Leaf cafe, my elbows pinned to the small wooden table, my forehead pressed so hard into my palm that my fingers left red indents against my skin. Cold, quiet tears leaked past my knuckles anyway, dripping uselessly onto the scuffed varnish. People were staring—not with sympathy, but with that subtle, narrow-eyed judgment I knew all too well. They weren't staring because a woman was weeping in public; they were staring because my body spilled over the edges of the tiny wrought-iron café chair, taking up space they clearly thought I had no business occupying.My skin still burned from what had happened ten minutes ago on the busy sidewalk of 5th Avenue. A little boy, maybe five years old, holding a bright pink lollipop in one hand while his mother held the other, had stopped dead in his tracks. He’d raised a stick







