Chapter 30
ONE YEAR LATER
I’m glaring at the elevator panel like it insulted me.
Everything aches. My feet, my lower back, my soul. I spent the last three hours firing some slimy waste of a man-child who decided probation ending was a license to grope the nearest woman. And then had the audacity to argue it.
“No, sir, I don’t care if she laughed nervously. That’s called fear. You’re fired, you’re blacklisted, and if you so much as look at another admin, I’ll personally make sure you can’t work in a damn broom closet without a reference check.”
So, yeah. I’m exhausted. I’m in my favourite blazer that now smells like rage. And Caden had the nerve to leave early for some secret lunch meeting and then text me, “Come to my place, not yours. Please.”
No explanation. No emoji. Just please . Like he knew I’d be irritated but not enough to say no. Ass.
The elevator dings open into the penthouse and it’s... dark.
What the hell!
The city’s skyline glows faintly through the windows, but everything else is bathed in shadows. And quiet. Which is suspicious .
Then I see it. A trail of rose petals, like the most cliché romantic fantasy of all time. My eyes narrow. “If this ends in a chocolate fountain and a threesome, I swear to God…”
I follow the trail past the kitchen, past the sofa where we once made out like horny teenagers after a board meeting, straight to the balcony.
And then I stop.
Because… damn .
There are fairy lights strung everywhere, dripping from the railings like soft, glowing vines, twisted along the railing like magic.
The whole space has been transformed. There are fresh flowers planted in the balcony garden; planted, not just arranged.
Like someone got dirt under their nails for this.
There’s lavender and white roses and peonies and a few sunflowers, because he says they remind him of me.
Everything smells like early summer and hope.
And I’m busy staring at it all, stunned and a little teary and also mentally calculating how much time this took, when I feel him.
Warmth at my back. I turn, heart already thudding.
“What is this?” I ask. Except… the words choke off halfway through.
Because Caden is on one knee.
In tailored suit pants and that open-collar shirt I like with the sleeves rolled back, tattoo’s peeking out, he knows they’re my weakness. And in his hand is a small velvet box, shaking slightly. And on his face, God. His face.
No smug grin. No smirk. No teasing glint in his eyes. Just him . Bare. Soft. So, so sure .
It hits me like a punch to the chest. This is not a playful gesture. This is real .
“I’ve loved you since before I had any right to,” he says, voice low, steady. “And I’ve waited because I knew you needed time. To heal. To grow. To figure out if this was real. And if you’d told me to wait another year, I would’ve.”
My eyes sting.
“But I look at you, at everything we’ve built, everything we’ve survived, and I don’t want to wait anymore. I want you. Now. Always.”
He opens the box. There’s a ring inside. Beautiful and simple. Like he knows I don’t need flashy. I just need him.
“Will you marry me?”
And I… I break.
“I can’t,” I whisper, barely audible.
His entire body stills. He looks up at me, confused, shattered, like I just cracked the world under his feet.
Then, in perfect Caden fashion, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t yell. Doesn’t beg. Just slowly, like his bones hurt, stands up. Closes the box. Nods once.
And walks away .
Gone.
Just… gone.
And I don’t move. I can’t .
I just stand there, frozen, mouth still parted like maybe I’ll call after him. But I don’t.
The second the elevator dings, I crumple to the ground, right in the middle of the stupid flower petals and fairy lights like some tragic, heartbroken Disney princess who had it all and set it on fire.
I cry. Ugly, hiccupping, body-shaking sobs. And then my phone rings.
Keira.
I answer and try to pretend I’m not in pieces.
“So…” she starts, the smirk practically audible.
Then she hears it. The hiccup.
“Oh my God. You said no? ”
“What?” I croak.
“ Caden asked for my permission. Like—like some regency drama proposal. He literally took me to lunch, bought me pancakes, and asked if he could marry you.”
I blink through tears. “Wait… you said yes?”
“Of course, I said yes, you idiot! You deserve it. You deserve him. You deserve to be happy . ”
My mouth wobbles. “I didn’t want you to think I was abandoning you…”
There's a pause. Then she says, “Oh my God, are you kidding me ? First of all, I’m moving in with friends next week. I was honestly thrilled to be rid of you. I had a whole celebratory snack drawer planned.”
That actually makes me laugh through my tears.
“And second,” she continues, her voice softening, “you’re not abandoning me. You saved me. And now it’s your turn. You don’t have to put your joy on pause just so I don’t feel alone. I’m not alone anymore. Not really. You made sure of that.”
I close my eyes, whisper, “I said no because I didn’t want you to be lonely.”
She sighs, and I can practically hear the eye roll. “Well, congrats, dumbass. Now you’re both lonely.”
I swallow hard.
Yeah. We are. But not for long.
Because I already know what I need to do.
I run like my life depends on, and slam my palm against the elevator button. Maybe he’s still in the building. Maybe I can catch him before he vanishes into the night like some tragically beautiful heartbroken CEO ghost.
The doors open immediately. And, holy shit , there he is.
Caden .
Still inside. Like the universe took pity on me for once.
He looks shocked; like genuinely stunned, as if he was about to sink into a dramatic spiral of Scotch and solitary brooding. His head turns toward the panel like he’s going to press another floor, maybe run.
But before he can even think about escaping, I launch myself at him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry -”
I barrel into him, arms flying around his neck, legs locking around his waist like some emotionally unstable backpack. My face buries itself in his hair and I blurt into the scent of his cologne:
“I wasn’t scared about us ; I was scared about Keira -and that was stupid because she’s already kicked me out of the apartment in her head . Marrying you is the literal dream , and I love you, and I don’t care if you want a break, you’re not getting one, so tough shit-”
He’s laughing now, shuddering with relief, even as he tries to peel me off like I’m some clingy koala with an emotional support disorder.
“Jesus, woman, at least let me put the ring on you,” he says, breathless and smiling like he can’t believe this is his life.
I loosen one hand, suspicious, is this a trick?
But he shifts, somehow managing, with impressive coordination, to balance me while still prying the velvet box from his pocket. A few awkward manoeuvres later, he slides the ring onto my finger .
My hand looks insane . In the best, most us way. Slightly messy. A little ridiculous. And perfect .
“Yes,” I whisper against his mouth, the word shaky and soaked in everything I’m feeling.
I kiss him hard.
Behind us, the elevator dings.
But we don’t move.
Because this, this , is where I’m meant to be. In his arms. In his life. Wrapped around him like I’ve always belonged there.
And I do.
Finally. I really, finally do .