Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sophie
*THREE MONTHS LATER*
Iam sitting in my office at Vanguard Business Journal with the final proof of the Blackwell Technologies retrospective open across my screen.
I have read it enough times that I could probably recite whole sections from memory, but I still move through the pages slowly, checking the final edits, the sourcing notes, the pull quotes, the captions, and every line of copy that carries my name.
Nothing has been taken from me this time.
No one has rewritten the reporting behind my back. No one has handed my notes to another writer and turned them into something I never intended to say. The editorial review has been thorough, independent, and occasionally exhausting, exactly the way it is supposed to be.
The final piece is mine.
I lean back in my chair and let myself look at the headline for a moment before my eyes drop to the byline beneath it:
By Sophie Callahan.
The words should feel ordinary. I have seen my name beneath hundreds of stories by now.
These do not.
A knock sounds against the open door, and Claire steps inside with Mark just behind her.
Claire looks at my screen.
“Still trying to find something wrong with it?”
“I’m being responsible.”
“You’ve been responsible for the last six hours.”
Mark walks farther into the office and folds his arms.
“Production is waiting.”
I glance between them.
“No pressure.”
“None whatsoever,” Claire says.
“Except that the piece is finished.”
I turn back toward the screen.
The retrospective spans the rise of Blackwell Technologies, the antitrust crisis, the restructuring that followed, the company’s recovery, its West Coast expansion, and the way the Blackwell family has changed alongside the business.
It is not flattering simply because Julian is part of my life now, and it is not punitive because of what happened before.
It is accurate.
That matters more than anything else.
I click through the final approval screen and send it to production. For a second, nothing happens, then the confirmation appears.
FINAL COPY SUBMITTED.
I sit very still as Claire comes around the side of my desk and looks at the screen.
“There it is,” she says.
I look up at her.
She smiles. “You did excellent work, Sophie.”
“Thank you.”
Mark nods toward the monitor.
“It’s one of the strongest long-form pieces we’ve run this year.”
“That sounds suspiciously like something you say before assigning me another one.”
“It is absolutely something I say before assigning you another one.”
I laugh softly.
Claire rests one hand against the back of the chair opposite me. “You should be proud of this.”
I look at the byline again.
“I am.”
The answer comes easier than I expect.
Mark says, “Good. Because you earned it.”
They leave a few minutes later to deal with the production schedule, and the office settles back into its usual afternoon rhythm.
I stay at my desk for another moment as I close the proof and sit back in my chair.
My phone vibrates against the desk a few minutes later:
Julian: How did the final edit go?
I smile before I can stop myself and pick up the phone.
Sophie: It’s done. Final copy is officially with production.
His reply comes almost immediately.
Julian: Good. I’m looking forward to reading it.
I type back:
Sophie: You already know Blackwell doesn’t get approval rights.
A few seconds later, another message appears.
Julian: I know better than to ask.
I laugh softly and shake my head.
Then his next text comes through.
Julian: Dinner. 7:00. Don’t be late.
I glance at the time.
Sophie: I remember.
Julian has been unusually vague about dinner all week. All I know is that he made a reservation at an exclusive Beverly Hills restaurant owned by a chef he has known for years, and considering I just sent the Blackwell piece to production, I assume this is his idea of celebrating.
Knowing Julian, “dinner” probably means a table no one else can get, a bottle of wine that costs more than my first apartment, and a chef appearing halfway through the meal to ask whether everything is acceptable.
I shut down my computer and gather the last of my things before heading toward the small private restroom near the executive offices.
I brought the dress with me this morning because going home first would have made me late, and Julian has made his position on punctuality very clear.
The black dress is fitted without being excessive, falling just above my knees with a clean neckline and simple lines. I change quickly, let my hair down from the clip I have been wearing all day, touch up my makeup, and add a deeper shade of lipstick.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I barely resemble the woman who spent the morning arguing with production over punctuation.
I slip into my heels, grab my purse, and head downstairs.
By the time I step outside, Beverly Hills is already beginning to glow beneath the evening light.
I check Julian’s message one more time before getting into the car.
7:00.
I’m going to make it with five minutes to spare.
***
The restaurant is exactly what I expect from Julian: understated from the street, immaculate once I step inside, and polished enough that no one has to advertise how expensive it is.
The ma?tre d’ looks up from the reservation stand as I approach and smiles immediately.
“Ms. Callahan. Mr. Blackwell is already waiting for you.”
“Of course he is,” I say.
The man’s smile deepens slightly.
“Right this way.”
I expect him to lead me toward the main dining room, but instead he guides me past it, through a quieter corridor lined with dark wood and soft lighting. We pass a glass wine room, then another set of doors that open toward the back of the property.
That is when I slow down.
The private courtyard beyond them is completely secluded from the restaurant.
Candlelight flickers across one long wall, low arrangements of white flowers and greenery frame a beautifully set table, and soft music plays somewhere out of sight.
The evening air is warm, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden.
I look at the ma?tre d’.
“Is this where I’m supposed to be?”
“Yes, Ms. Callahan.”
He gestures toward the courtyard.
“Mr. Blackwell asked that you have complete privacy this evening.”
That does not answer my question nearly as well as he thinks it does.
I step farther inside and can see that there is only one table and two place settings. But then I notice a third glass.
I stop.
Before I can make sense of it, a familiar voice cuts through the music.
“Mommy!”
I turn. Theo comes running toward me from the far side of the garden in a tiny black tuxedo, white shirt, and bow tie that is already sitting slightly crooked around his neck.
My mouth falls open.
“Theo??”
He reaches me, and I crouch just in time for him to throw his arms around my neck. I laugh into his shoulder as I hug him.
“What are you doing here?”
Theo pulls back with a grin that is far too pleased with itself.
“I came for dinner.”
“In a tuxedo?”
He looks down at himself.
“He said I had to dress nice.”
My pulse shifts.
“Julian said that?”
Theo nods.
I straighten and look around the courtyard again.
“Where is he?”
Theo smiles wider.
That is suspicious enough on its own.
“Theo.”
He presses his lips together.
“You know something.”
“I’m not supposed to tell.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“You are enjoying this way too much.”
He laughs, and then movement catches at the edge of my vision. I turn, as Julian steps into the courtyard from the opposite side. For one second, I forget how to breathe.
He is wearing a black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and bow tie, his hair brushed neatly back with the silver at his temples catching in the candlelight.
He looks composed, elegant, and completely at home in the kind of clothes most men would spend the entire evening adjusting.
But there is something different in his face. Something more exposed. I stare at him.
“Oh my God.”
Julian walks toward us. My eyes move from him to Theo, then back again.
“You brought Theo?”
“I did.”
I look around the courtyard once more.
“What is going on?”
Julian stops a few feet away.
“I thought he should be here.”
Theo moves beside me and slips his hand into mine. That is when my heartbeat really starts to climb. I look down at him as he is smiling. I look back at Julian.
“You two are making me nervous.”
Julian’s mouth curves faintly.
“That was not the intention.”
“It’s definitely the result.”
He steps closer. The confidence is still there, but I can see the tension beneath it now. It is in the way he takes one slow breath before looking directly at me.
“Sophie.”
Something in his voice makes my chest tighten. I look at Theo again. He squeezes my hand. Then Julian reaches into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket.
I stop breathing entirely.
“Julian…”
He lowers himself onto one knee and my free hand flies to my mouth.
Julian opens the ring box.
The diamond catches the candlelight immediately, elegant and unmistakably substantial without needing anything else around it. My vision blurs before I can take in more than the shape of it.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Tears spill over almost at once.
Julian looks up at me from one knee, and for all the confidence he carries into every room, there is nothing guarded in his face now.
“Sophie,” he says, “I spent most of my life believing success meant having control over everything around me. The company, the decisions, the outcome, the next move. I knew how to build things. I knew how to protect them. I knew how to make sure nothing could surprise me.”
I laugh softly through the tears because that sounds exactly like him.
Julian’s mouth shifts, but his eyes stay on mine.
“Then you came into my life and reminded me that the best things I have were never things I could control. They were things I had to choose.”
My hand stays pressed over my mouth.
He continues,
“Theo has become one of the greatest joys of my life, and I will never stop being grateful for the boy you raised. You protected him, loved him, gave him stability, and built a life around him when I wasn’t there to help you do any of it.
I can’t change the years I missed, but I can spend every year ahead of us showing both of you that I’m here. ”
The tears come harder. Theo squeezes my hand, but I cannot look away from Julian.
“You are stubborn,” Julian says, and a small smile finally touches his face.
“You are brilliant, difficult, protective, loving, and still completely unimpressed by my name when it suits you.”
A wet laugh escapes me.
Julian continues, “You challenge me more than anyone I have ever known, and somehow you are still the place where my life feels the most complete.”
My chest aches.
“I’m not asking you to marry me because we lost time,” he says.
“I’m asking because I want all the time we still have. I’ve loved you through distance, anger, misunderstanding, and finally the truth. Now I want the privilege of loving you when there is nothing left standing between us.”
I wipe beneath one eye, but it is useless.
Julian takes a breath.
“I choose you, Sophie. I choose Theo. I choose this life every single day, if you’ll let me.”
His eyes stay on mine.
“Marry me.”
For a second, I cannot get the word out.
Theo looks up at me, already grinning.
“Mom, you’re supposed to say yes.”
I laugh through the tears and look down at him.
“I know.”
Then I look back at Julian.
“Yes!”
His expression changes immediately. I nod, crying harder now.
“Yes, Julian. I’ll marry you!”
Julian slides the ring onto my finger, and my hand shakes enough that he steadies it in his.
When he stands, I barely give him time to close the box before I wrap my arms around his neck.
He kisses me softly, one hand settling at my waist while the other cups the side of my face. There is no urgency in it, only warmth and certainty and the quiet relief of finally standing in the same place at the same time without anything hidden between us.
Theo does not tolerate being left out for long as he throws his arms around Julian’s waist and presses himself between us. I laugh against Julian’s shoulder.
Julian reaches down and pulls Theo closer until the three of us are tangled together in the middle of the garden.
I look at them and feel something inside me settle.
For so long, I believed protecting Theo meant keeping these worlds separate. I thought safety lived in distance, in control, in making sure Blackwell never touched the life I built here. I was wrong about what he could gain.
Julian has spent the last several months proving that he is not here to take anything from us. He is here because he wants to stay.
Theo looks up at Julian, still smiling.
“She said yes, Daddy!”
Everything inside me stops. Julian has the same reaction as well as his eyes drop to Theo. For a moment, he says nothing. Then his expression softens in a way I have never seen before, and he bends slightly to pull Theo tighter against him.
I feel the chunks in my throat rise.
Theo has never called him that before.
Julian looks at me over Theo’s head with tears in his eyes. He does not need to say anything. I see exactly what the word means to him. I move closer and wrap one arm around both of them.
The candlelight flickers across the garden while Theo stays tucked between us, Julian’s hand resting at the back of his head and my engagement ring catching the light near Julian’s shoulder.
This morning, my name sat beneath a story that finally belonged to me. Tonight, the two parts of my life I once believed could never exist safely in the same place are standing in my arms.
Not because the past somehow fixed itself.
Because we chose what came next.