Vivienne #3
“Yeah.” I stand on my toes and kiss him once more. “Best proposal in the history of proposals.”
“Good. Because I’ve been planning it for three years, and if you’d said no I would have had to leave the country out of embarrassment.”
“Three years!?”
“I bought the ring on our two-year anniversary of you telling me you were staying. I’ve been carrying it around ever since just waiting for the right moment.
” He laces his fingers through mine, and we start walking back toward the restaurant, our footsteps leaving tracks in the sand.
“But I also wanted to wait until you were ready. Until you’d healed enough to know you were staying because you wanted to.
Not because you were running from something else. ”
My throat goes tight. “Callum.”
“I wanted you to be proud of yourself first,” he says quietly.
“I wanted you to work a full service without fear. And pick up a knife and feel joy instead of panic. I wanted you to look in the mirror and see what I see — someone who is strong and brave and whole.” His hand tightens on mine.
“I wanted you to marry me because you chose me, not because you needed me.”
I stop walking, pulling him to a halt. “I do choose you. Every single day. I have been for years.”
“I know.” He cups my face with his free hand.
“That’s why tonight felt right. You’re not the woman who walked into my restaurant five years ago.
You’re not even the woman who told me you were staying.
You’re —” He smiles. “You’re you. Completely and fully you.
And I wanted to ask this version of you. ”
I kiss him hard, tasting salt — ocean or tears, I’m not sure.
When we pull apart, he’s grinning. “I almost proposed during prep last Tuesday, but Roman stopped me.”
“During prep?”
“You were wearing my hoodie and you had flour on your nose, and you were arguing with Cora about the chemistry of meringue, and I just —” He shakes his head.
“I wanted to ask you right then. But Roman physically took the ring out of my pocket and told me I needed to do better than the middle of a Tuesday afternoon prep session.”
“I would have said yes,” I say. “Right there in the middle of prep with flour on my nose and Cora rolling her eyes at us. I would have said yes anywhere.”
“I know.” He smirks. “But you do deserve better than a Tuesday afternoon proposal. You deserve the world.”
We climb the wooden steps back up to the restaurant, our hands still linked. As we get closer I can hear voices, laughter, and the sound of a cork popping.
We round the corner to the back patio, and the atmosphere shifts instantly.
Everyone is here, gathered in a warm circle of laughter and light.
Patrick is standing near the edge of the patio, a beer in his hand, his eyes bright as he watches all of us gather.
When he catches my eye, he raises his bottle in a small salute, his smile wide and genuine.
Hayes is on his phone checking work emails probably, while Beckett and Iris bicker next to him about something that has Beckett gesturing wildly and Iris laughing and shaking her head.
Roman sits with his arm around Frannie’s waist, both of them grinning at some private joke, their wedding bands catching the light as they lean close together.
Cora with a three-tier cake decorated with what looks like rosemary and edible flowers, rolling her eyes at something but smiling anyway.
And then there are my parents, standing a bit apart but clearly a part of the warmth.
My mom’s hand is on my dad’s arm, her eyes sparkling with emotion as she looks around at our friends.
They’ve finally come to grips with everything I’ve been through, and seeing them here, supporting me, gives me an unexpected sense of calm.
They’re asking the hard questions, unearthing feelings I’d buried for so long, and right now, they’re just … here.
“Viv!” my dad calls out, waving me over with that familiar grin that makes my heart swell. “Look at this cake! It’s a work of art. It’s almost too pretty to eat.” He glances at Cora, who pretends to be insulted but can’t hide her smile.
“Almost,” I echo with a grin, feeling the warmth of my parents’ presence wrap around me like a hug. They’ve worked hard to be here for me through every neap and spring tide, and knowing I have their support makes this moment feel even more special.
And at the bar, Wesley and Sloane are clearly in the middle of a heated argument.
“— telling you the nets need to be replaced, not repaired —” Sloane leans across the bar, her eyes flashing.
“And I’m telling you, Sloane, that we don’t have the budget for new nets right now.” Wesley mirrors her position, leaning in until they’re inches apart.
“Then maybe you should stop wasting money on equipment that doesn’t actually improve efficiency.”
“That equipment saved us three hours last week.”
“Three hours you spent organizing the storage bay that didn’t need organizing!”
They’re both breathing hard, all harsh words and barely contained fury, the air between them crackling with an energy that has nothing to do with fishing nets and everything to do with something neither of them is willing to acknowledge.
Callum catches me watching and grins, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Those two are going to kill each other.”
“Or something like that,” I murmur back, watching the way Wesley’s eyes track Sloane’s movements and the way she leans closer when she’s making a point.
Patrick approaches us first, his eyes dropping to my left hand. His whole face lights up, and he crosses the patio in three long strides, pulling Callum first and then me into a crushing hug.
“Congratulations,” his voice is thick with emotion. “Both of you. I’m so happy.”
Then everyone’s moving at once. Roman whooping and popping the champagne properly, foam spilling over his hands.
Frannie squealing and pulling me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
Hayes clapping Callum on the back hard enough to make him stumble.
Cora presenting the cake with a deadpan “About time” that makes everyone laugh.
And through it all, Callum’s hand stays in mine.
Anchoring me. Keeping me here. Reminding me that I’m not running anymore.
That I’m home.
I look around at these people. At this family I’ve chosen and who’ve chosen me back. At the restaurant visible through the windows, warm and full and alive. At the ocean beyond it, that constant rhythm that’s become the soundtrack to my life. At the ring on my finger.
Five years ago, I couldn’t hold a pan without shaking. Five years ago, I thought I’d lost the ability to cook and to trust. To stay in one place long enough to call it home.
And now I’m here. Engaged to the man I’ve loved since culinary school. Cooking in a kitchen that might earn a Michelin star. Surrounded by family and friends and a town that claimed me as one of their own.
The spring tide brought us together — violent and extreme and almost destructive.
The neap tide let us build something lasting — gentle and steady and true.
And now we get forever.
All the tides. All the days.
All of it.
Callum pulls me close as Cora starts cutting the cake and Roman pours champagne into mismatched glasses and Patrick proposes a toast. My fiancée’s arm wraps around my waist, and I lean into him, my head finding that perfect spot on his shoulder.
“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair.
“I love you too.”
And as I stand there surrounded by everyone who matters, with the ocean whispering in the distance and the stars bright overhead and the ring solid on my finger, I think about that girl who walked into Neap & Spring five years ago.
Exhausted and running and so afraid of staying still.
And I’m grateful she had the courage to stop and to stay.
And to finally come home.