38. Henry
38
HENRY
I guide Monica through Flavor Fusion's entrance, my hand resting protectively at the small of her back. The past few weeks have been a goddamn rollercoaster, but seeing her walk without wincing makes my chest tight in the best way possible.
"Mrs. Blackwood," I whisper in her ear as we approach the hostess stand, loving how her body responds to the title with a slight shiver.
Olivia spots us immediately and rushes over, embracing Monica first.
"Look at you walking without that boot! Thank God." She pulls back, examining Monica from head to toe. "And in those heels? Damn, girl."
"Had to make up for lost time," Monica laughs, doing a little twirl that makes my mouth go dry.
Olivia turns to me with a knowing smirk. "You two are getting the royal treatment tonight. No arguments."
She leads us to the best table in the house—secluded corner, perfect view of the city lights, ambient music just loud enough to provide privacy without shouting.
"I've got a special menu planned," Olivia announces as we sit. "And Leo sent over a bottle of that Japanese whiskey you love, Henry."
"Shit, tell him thanks," I say, watching as a server appears with the bottle and two crystal glasses.
Monica raises an eyebrow. "Pulling out all the stops tonight, huh?"
"Only the best for my wife," I respond, enjoying how the word feels less like a performance now.
The whiskey arrives alongside a stunning plate of appetizers—delicate tuna tartare with wasabi cream, lobster bites with truffle aioli, and something with caviar that looks like it belongs in a museum.
"Olivia said these are all your favorites," Monica says, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight.
I take her hand across the table, running my thumb over her knuckles. "My favorite thing is seeing you happy and healthy."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't pull away. "Smooth talker."
"Only with you." I lift my glass. "To new beginnings."
Monica clinks her glass against mine, her smile genuine and open in a way I rarely saw before. "To us."
I savor the first bite of Wagyu steak, watching Monica's expression as she tastes the truffle risotto. Her eyes close momentarily, and that small smile appears—the one that makes my heart race.
"Olivia outdid herself," she murmurs, taking another bite.
"She knows we've been through hell lately." I reach across the table, brushing my fingers against hers. "You deserve this night."
The weight of the small velvet box in my jacket pocket suddenly feels significant. I've been carrying it around for days, waiting for the perfect moment.
"Speaking of deserving things..." I clear my throat, suddenly nervous. "I've been thinking about us—about this whole arrangement."
Monica's fork pauses halfway to her mouth. "What about it?"
I take a deep breath and pull out the box, setting it on the table between us. Her eyes widen.
"Henry, what's?—"
"I want this to be real, Monica. All of it." I open the box, revealing a three-carat oval diamond set in platinum with smaller diamonds cascading down the band. "No more pretending. I want you as my wife—for real this time."
Her hand flies to her mouth. "Oh my God."
"The first ring was rushed. This one..." I take it out, holding it between us. "This is what you deserve. Something chosen specifically for you."
Monica's eyes fill with tears as I slip it onto her finger. Perfect fit.
"It's beautiful," she whispers, turning her hand to catch the light. "But are you sure? After everything with Benjamin, the accident?—"
"I've never been more sure of anything." I take both her hands in mine. "I want a real wedding, Monica. Friends, family, the whole thing. I want to stand up in front of everyone and tell them how much I love you."
She stares at the ring, then back at me, a tear sliding down her cheek.
"So what do you say, Monica West? Will you marry me? For real this time?"
I hold my breath as Monica's eyes meet mine. For a split second, I worry I've pushed too far, too fast.
"Yes," she says, her voice breaking with emotion. "Of course I'll marry you, Henry. For real this time."
My heart hammers against my chest as I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there. The diamond catches the light, sending prisms dancing across her face.
"It's perfect," she whispers, holding her hand up to admire it.
I lean across the table and kiss her, not giving a damn who's watching. When we break apart, I notice Olivia standing nearby with a knowing smile. She gives me a subtle thumbs up before disappearing back to the kitchen.
"You planned this with her, didn't you?" Monica asks, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.
"Guilty." I take a sip of whiskey, savoring the warm burn. "I wanted tonight to be special."
"It is." She reaches across the table to take my hand. "I never thought I'd get here—being happy, feeling safe, planning a future with someone who actually sees me."
"I see all of you, Monica. The good, the complicated, all of it."
We return to our meal, but I can't stop staring at her—the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, how she savors each bite with that little hum of appreciation. I've never felt this kind of contentment before.
Olivia returns carrying a covered silver platter, flanked by two servers with champagne.
"Congratulations are in order, I hear," she announces, setting the platter between us with a flourish. The entire restaurant seems to hold its breath in anticipation.
She removes the cover to reveal an exquisite dessert—a chocolate dome surrounded by fresh berries and edible flowers. The craftsmanship is fucking incredible, even by Olivia's standards. As we watch, she pours warm caramel sauce over the top, the golden liquid cascading down the chocolate surface, melting the dome to reveal two perfect chocolate soufflés inside. The scent of rich chocolate and caramel fills the air between us.
"My special creation for Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood," Olivia says with a wink, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Though technically, you're already that on paper."
Monica squeezes my hand. Her touch sends electricity up my arm. That beautiful smile of hers—the one that still knocks the wind out of me—spreads across her face. "We're making it official—properly this time."