Chapter 9 #2
Perfect Brews is bustling with the post-gala crowd when we arrive, locals dissecting last night's events over steaming mugs and fresh pastries. A momentary hush falls as we enter, followed by a wave of greetings that feel genuinely warm rather than merely polite.
"There they are!" Carly calls from behind the counter. "The dream team! That was some gala last night."
We make our way to the counter, where Carly's already preparing our usual orders, black coffee with two sugars for me, vanilla latte for Sloane. As she passes the mugs across, her eyes widen, spotting the emerald ring immediately.
"Holy shi, shoot," she amends, glancing at a nearby family with young children. "Is that what I think it is?"
Sloane's smile is radiant as she extends her hand. "It is. As of last night."
The squeal Carly emits draws the attention of every patron in the coffee shop. "You're engaged? Oh my God, this is incredible!" She rounds the counter, throwing her arms around Sloane. "I knew it! I told Marcus at the gala that Atticus had that look."
"What look?" I ask, both amused and slightly concerned by how transparent I apparently was.
"The 'I'm about to change my entire life' look," Carly explains, turning to embrace me as well, a gesture so unexpected I momentarily freeze before awkwardly returning it. "The same one you had when you first saw her in that green dress, but like, a thousand times more intense."
News spreads through the coffee shop like wildfire, patrons offering congratulations and well-wishes.
To my surprise, I find myself genuinely touched by their reactions, their joy for Sloane, certainly, but also their apparent acceptance of me, the corporate outsider who's somehow become part of their community.
"You two are good together," Spencer comments, clapping me on the shoulder with surprising force. "Balancing each other out. Corporate and local, finding the middle ground."
"That's the goal," I agree, watching as Mindy examines Sloane's ring with appropriate admiration.
"So," Levi asks, appearing at my side with his usual directness, "does this mean Blackwood Industries is making a permanent commitment to Hope Peak? Beyond the Winter Division?"
Leave it to the council representative to see the business implications immediately. But for once, I don't mind the question.
"It means I am," I clarify. "Both personally and professionally."
His nod of approval feels unexpectedly significant. "Good. This town could use your strategic thinking. And you could use this town's heart."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes; Marcus, with his impeccable timing.
Congratulations, sir. I've taken the liberty of having flowers delivered to Ms. Parker's office and updating your relationship status in the company directory.
I smile at his efficiency, typing back: Thank you, Marcus. And it's fiancée now, not girlfriend.
His response is immediate: Already updated, sir. The board is requesting a brief call at your earliest convenience. I've scheduled it for 2pm, allowing time for you to enjoy your morning.
I glance up at Sloane, now showing her ring to Tessa and several other women while fielding questions about wedding dates and venue possibilities.
The sight of her, radiant with happiness, the emerald on her finger catching the light with every animated gesture, fills me with a contentment I've never known before.
Make it 3, I reply to Marcus. Some things are more important than board calls.
His response suggests he approves of my shifting priorities. Indeed they are, sir.
Sloane catches my eye across the crowded coffee shop, her smile softening when our gazes meet. She excuses herself from her admirers, weaving between tables until she reaches my side.
"Overwhelmed yet?" she asks, slipping her arm through mine.
"Surprisingly, no." I cover her hand with mine, where it rests in the crook of my arm. "Though I think we've given the town gossip mill enough fuel to last until spring."
"At least," she agrees with a laugh. "Ready to face HQ? Jenna's already texted me four times."
"As ready as I'll ever be," I admit.
We say our goodbyes, accepting more congratulations as we make our way out of Perfect Brews and toward the Blackwood Winter HQ building. The walk is pleasant despite the cold, our hands linked as we discuss how to share our news with the team.
"We could send a formal email," I suggest, only half-joking. "Very corporate."
"Or we could just walk in together and let them notice the ring," Sloane counters. "Very Hope Peak."
"Split the difference?" I propose. "Gather everyone for an announcement, but keep it casual."
"Perfect," she agrees, squeezing my hand. "The best of both worlds."
As we approach the HQ building, its glass and timber structure gleaming in the winter sun, I'm struck by how well it embodies what we're trying to build together.
Inside, the lobby is bustling with post-gala activity, staff members removing decorations, discussing follow-up initiatives, analyzing the success of various community connections made last night. Jenna spots us first, hurrying over with barely contained excitement.
"There you are!" she exclaims, eyes immediately dropping to Sloane's left hand. The squeal she emits is nearly identical to Carly's. "You did it! You actually proposed!"
"Was there ever doubt?" I ask, slightly affronted.
"We had a pool going," she admits shamelessly. "Half the team thought you'd wait until Christmas. Brynn was convinced you'd do it at the gala. Marcus refused to bet on principle, which was basically confirmation."
"Et tu, Marcus?" I mutter, spotting my assistant approaching with his usual composure, though I detect a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
"Congratulations, Mr. Morgan, Ms. Parker," he says formally, though genuine warmth underlies his professional tone. "Your ten o'clock meeting has been rescheduled to accommodate the board call at three, and I've taken the liberty of having champagne delivered for a team celebration at noon."
"Of course you have," I reply, unable to suppress my own smile. "Thank you, Marcus."
"My pleasure, sir." His expression softens slightly. "If I may say so, it's about time."
With that unprecedented personal comment, he returns to his desk, leaving me momentarily speechless.
"He's right, you know," Sloane murmurs, leaning into my side. "It is about time."
I press a kiss to her temple, unconcerned with the professional boundaries I once guarded so rigidly. "Better late than never."
The morning passes in a blur of congratulations, champagne toasts, and more hugs than I've received in the past decade combined.
The team's genuine happiness for us is touching, their acceptance of our relationship seemingly universal.
Even the board, in our afternoon call, offers congratulations before moving on to business matters, though I note several sidelong glances when I outline my plans for splitting time between New York and Hope Peak.
"Unprecedented," one board member comments. "Though given the Winter Division's success under your leadership, we're willing to consider flexible arrangements."
"Consider it a test case for executive remote work," I counter smoothly. "If quarterly projections maintain their current trajectory, my location becomes irrelevant."
The numbers, already promising after just three weeks, support my argument. The board may be traditional, but they respect results above all else. By the call's end, they've provisionally approved my proposal for a hybrid arrangement, pending the Winter Division's full launch in January.
One more hurdle cleared, I think as I disconnect. One step closer to building a life with Sloane that doesn't require either of us to sacrifice what matters.
I find her in her office, reviewing slope safety protocols with Spencer's team. She glances up as I enter, her smile immediate and warming.
"How was the board?" she asks once Spencer and his team have departed with congratulations and safety checklists.
"Surprisingly amenable," I reply, closing her office door to give us privacy. "The hybrid arrangement has provisional approval. Contingent on maintaining profit projections, of course."
"Of course." Her smile widens as I cross to her, perching on the edge of her desk. "So it's really happening? You and me, splitting time between here and New York?"
"It's really happening." I take her hand, thumb brushing over the emerald ring. "Though I was thinking we might need a more permanent residence here than my cabin rental."
"Moving in together?" she teases. "How scandalous."
"Getting married tends to involve shared living space," I point out dryly. "Though we could maintain separate residences if you prefer the illusion of propriety."
"Hmm, tempting." She pretends to consider. "But I think I'd rather wake up with you every morning."
"A wise decision." I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles just above the ring. "So, house hunting?"
"First on the list," she agrees. "Though we should probably set a wedding date before we close on property. My father will have opinions."
"As will my mother," I grimace slightly. "Speaking of whom, we should call her. Before someone else does."
"Already taken care of," Sloane admits. "She called me directly after seeing my Instagram story."
"Your what?" I blink, confused.
"The photo of the ring I posted this morning," she clarifies. "With the caption 'I said yes to forever with my best friend.'"
"You announced our engagement on social media before we told my mother?" I can't decide whether to be horrified or impressed by her audacity.
"In my defense, it was when you were in the shower," she says, not looking remotely apologetic. "And Vivienne was surprisingly gracious. Already talking about spring flowers and venue options."
"God help us," I mutter, though there's no real distress behind it. My mother's enthusiasm, while potentially overwhelming, comes from a place of genuine happiness for us. "Spring, then? For the wedding?"
"April," she suggests. "When the snow is gone but before the tourist season gets too crazy. Simple ceremony at The Evergreen, reception at Skyline."
I raise an eyebrow at her specific vision. "Been planning this long?"
A blush colors her cheeks. "Maybe I've thought about it once or twice. Theoretically."
"Theoretically," I repeat, charmed by her admission. "Well, theoretically, April sounds perfect."
"You're really on board with a small-town wedding? Not some lavish Manhattan affair that will make the society pages?"
"I'm on board with whatever makes you happy," I tell her truthfully. "Though I admit, the thought of a Hope Peak wedding appeals more than I expected. It feels... right."
Her expression softens as she rises from her chair, stepping between my legs where I sit on her desk. "You've changed, Atticus Morgan."
"For the better, I hope."
"Definitely for the better." She loops her arms around my neck. "Though I fell for you long before Hope Peak worked its magic. Ruthless CEO and all."
"Is that so?" I wrap my arms around her waist, drawing her closer. "Even when I was critiquing the foam-to-coffee ratio in your lattes?"
"Even then," she confirms with a laugh. "Though I did occasionally fantasize about dumping said lattes over your perfect hair."
"Violent tendencies noted," I murmur, leaning in to brush my lips against hers. "Should I be concerned about my safety as your husband?"
"Only if you leave the toothpaste cap off," she warns, deepening the kiss momentarily before pulling back. "Or work past dinner without calling."
"Reasonable boundaries," I agree, chasing her lips for another kiss. "Anything else I should know before we make this official?"
Her expression turns more serious. "Just that I love you. More than I ever thought possible. And whatever comes next, New York board meetings or Hope Peak snow days, we'll figure it out together."
"Together," I echo, the word a promise and a future rolled into one. "I like the sound of that."
"Me too," she whispers against my lips before kissing me again, this time with an intensity that makes me grateful her office door is closed.
When we eventually break apart, both slightly breathless, the intercom on her desk buzzes. Jenna's voice filters through: "Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but the children's pageant director is on line one. Something about needing Atticus for an emergency star-hanging situation?"
Sloane's laugh is bright and infectious as I groan, pressing my forehead to hers. "Duty calls, future husband," she teases. "Your public needs you."
"The sacrifices I make for community integration," I mutter, though there's no real complaint behind it.
"Just wait until they recruit you for the Santa role," she warns, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Red suit, fake beard, the works."
"That's where I draw the line," I inform her firmly, stealing one more kiss before releasing her. "CEO dignity has its limits."
"We'll see," is all she says, the challenge in her voice suggesting this is a battle I'm destined to lose.
Oddly, the thought doesn't bother me as it once would have.
Perhaps because I know whatever ridiculous holiday tradition I'm roped into, whatever community event requires my presence, whatever small-town obligation comes next, Sloane will be by my side, making it all not just bearable, but somehow wonderful.
As I head to the children's pageant rehearsal, the emerald ring on her finger catching the light as she waves goodbye, I find myself looking forward to every moment of our shared future, board meetings and holiday pageants alike.
Because with Sloane Parker, soon to be Sloane Morgan, even hanging paper stars in a school gymnasium feels like exactly where I'm meant to be.