Chapter 60 Layla

• Layla
• The ring feels weird around my finger. It’s all I can think about as Tristan and I ride the elevator to the penthouse suite of the Blanco Hotel, where he lives in New York. I look subtly at Tristan, whose back is against one of the elevator's mirrored walls.
• Okay, maybe the ring isn’t the only thing I think about. It must be the wine I drank at the party, but I’m still buzzing from the proposal and how real it felt at the moment. Tristan isn’t looking at me. He’s on his phone, fingers flying across the screen, texting God knows who.