20. Kim
Two weeks.
Two weeks since Cole Matthews had fled Dubois Industries like the building was on fire.
Two weeks since the lawyers had confirmed the contract was void, the company was safe, and Cole's career was effectively over.
Two weeks since Xavier had kissed me in front of the entire office and told me he wanted everything.
Two weeks of being deliriously, terrifyingly happy.
I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the universe to remember that Kim Young didn't get happy endings. But every morning I woke up, and Xavier was still there, still looking at me like I was something worth keeping.
Maybe the universe had forgotten about me. I wasn't about to remind it.
I glanced at him now, his profile illuminated by the afternoon sun streaming through the windshield. Strong jaw, tousled hair, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He drove the way he did everything—relaxed but confident, one hand on the wheel, completely at ease in his own skin.
I'd been so foolish. Those hours on the plane back from Hawaii, convinced he was pulling away, certain I was reliving the same pattern I'd survived with Cole. I'd built my walls back up brick by brick, preparing for the inevitable abandonment.
Instead, he'd punched Cole in the face. Twice.
And then he'd held me while I fell apart. And then he'd fixed everything. And then he'd asked me to marry him in front of an entire office building like a lunatic.
Some men sent flowers when they screwed up. Xavier Dubois committed felony assault and public declarations of love.
I was starting to think I had a type.
"You're staring."
I blinked, heat creeping up my neck. "I'm not staring."
"You're absolutely staring." Xavier's grin widened, his eyes still on the road. "Not that I blame you. I am devastatingly handsome."
"And so humble."
"Humility is overrated." He shot me a sideways glance. "But seriously. You've been watching me for the last ten minutes. Do I have something on my face?"
"Maybe I just like looking at you." I reached over and traced a finger along his jaw. "Maybe I can watch you all I want now."
His grin softened into something warmer. "Yeah. You can."
"Mommy and Xavier are being mushy again," Zoe announced from the backseat.
I turned to find her making exaggerated gagging noises, her stuffed elephant clutched to her chest, her face scrunched in theatrical disgust.
"We're not being mushy," I said. "We're having an adult conversation."
"You were looking at each other all gooey." Zoe crossed her arms. "That's mushy."
"Gooey?" Xavier laughed. "I have never been gooey in my life. I'm far too sophisticated for gooey."
"You're gooey right now," Zoe informed him. "Your face is doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you look at Mommy like she's made of chocolate cake."
Xavier caught my eye in the rearview mirror, his expression mock-serious. "She's not wrong. You do look delicious."
"Xavier!"
"What? She started it."
Zoe giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh too. This was my life now. Banter and laughter, and a man who looked at me like I was made of chocolate cake.
It still didn't feel quite real. Like I was borrowing someone else's happiness and would have to return it eventually, with interest.
But Zoe was giggling. And Xavier was holding my hand. And maybe, just maybe, I was allowed to keep this.
Xavier's hand found mine, his fingers lacing through mine on the center console. He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, quick and casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it was.
Sebastian's estate appeared around the bend—a sprawling mansion set back from the road, all stone and glass and manicured gardens.
Cars lined the circular drive, valets in crisp uniforms directing traffic.
This was a celebration, after all. The successful launch of their Hawaii hotel, the one that had almost been overshadowed by Cole's scheming.
Xavier pulled up to the entrance and handed his keys to the waiting valet. I helped Zoe out of her car seat, smoothing down the skirt of her purple dress, the one she'd insisted on wearing because it "twirled the best."
"Ready?" Xavier asked, offering me his arm.
I took it. "Ready."
The ballroom was magnificent.
Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, casting prismatic light across the crowd.
Enormous flower arrangements in tropical colors—hibiscus, bird of paradise, plumeria—transformed the space into something that felt almost like being back in Hawaii.
A string quartet played softly in one corner, and waiters circulated with champagne and elegant hors d'oeuvres.
"Kim! Xavier!"
Aria swept toward us, radiant in a flowing blue dress that matched her warm smile. She crouched down to Zoe's level first, pulling her into a hug.
"There's my favorite girl! I saved you a seat right next to Evie. She's been asking about you all day."
Zoe's face lit up. "Really?"
"Really. She's right over there, see?"
Zoe spotted Evie across the room and took off running, her purple dress twirling behind her. Aria straightened, turning her smile on us.
"I'm so glad you came. Both of you." She squeezed my hands. "It means so much to have you here."
"We wouldn't miss it," I said. And I meant it. Somewhere along the way, this family had stopped feeling like Xavier's family and started feeling like mine.
The thought should have terrified me. I'd never had a family. Not really. Foster homes didn't count. Cole certainly didn't count.
But here I was, surrounded by Dubois wealth and Dubois drama and Dubois everything, and it felt like... home.
Huh. So that's what that was.
Aria was pulled away by another arriving guest, and Xavier led me deeper into the crowd.
We found Helena near the bar, elegant as always in cream silk.
Eleanor held court at a nearby table, surrounded by well-wishers.
Isabelle stood by the windows, stunning in emerald green, her attention seemingly fixed on something across the room.
I followed her gaze. A man sat at one of the far tables—tall, dark-haired, handsome in a sharp-jawed, brooding sort of way. He was watching Isabelle, too, his expression unreadable.
Interesting. But before I could think too much about it, we were swept up in greetings and hugs and the pleasant chaos of a celebration. We made our way to the family table—Helena, Eleanor, Isabelle, all of us together—and settled in for the evening.
I noticed Sebastian hovering near the stage, his posture tense despite the smile fixed on his face. He kept checking his pocket, adjusting his jacket, running a hand through his hair. I'd never seen him anything less than perfectly composed.
"Is Sebastian okay?" I murmured to Xavier.
Xavier followed my gaze and grinned. "He's fine. Just nervous."
"Nervous about what?"
"You'll see."
Before I could press him, movement caught my eye. The man from across the room had approached our table and was standing in front of Isabelle, his head tilted in what looked like a question.
"May I borrow you for a moment?" His voice caught me off guard—crisp, refined, unmistakably British. The kind of accent that belonged in period dramas and royal palaces.
"No." Isabelle's voice was firm. Final.
The man didn't flinch. "Issy..."
"I said no."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Come on, love. Just five minutes."
Something flickered across Isabelle's face. Irritation, yes, but something else too. Something that looked almost like longing was quickly suppressed.
She rose to her feet. "Five minutes."
They disappeared into the crowd together, and I filed the interaction away for later. There was clearly a story there—one I suspected would be worth hearing.
The clinking of glass against crystal drew everyone's attention to the stage.
Sebastian stood at the microphone, Aria watching him from the front of the crowd with a curious smile. He cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.
"Thank you all for being here tonight." His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. "This celebration marks the successful launch of our newest property, but it also marks something more personal for me."
He paused, his eyes finding Aria in the crowd.
"I want to thank everyone who contributed to making this possible. Our team, our partners, our family." A small smile crossed his face. "But most of all, I want to thank someone very special. Aria, could you join me up here?"
Aria's eyes widened. She glanced at our table, at Helena, who was already tearing up, at Eleanor, who wore a knowing smile. Then she blew Sebastian a kiss and made her way to the stage, the crowd parting for her.
Sebastian took her hand the moment she reached him, lacing their fingers together. He turned to face her fully, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. More intimate, despite the microphone.
"I'm not a man of many words. You all know this." He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I stumble over what I'm trying to say, and sometimes I don't know the right thing at all."
He stepped closer to her, his free hand reaching into his pocket.
"But I always know what's right. And that's you."
He pulled out a small velvet box and lowered himself to one knee.
The room gasped. Aria made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. I gripped Xavier's arm, my heart pounding like it was my own proposal.
Which was ridiculous. We'd been together for two weeks. Real together, not a fake arrangement together. Nobody proposed after two weeks.
Nobody sane, anyway.
"Aria Kealoha." Sebastian opened the box, revealing a ring that caught the chandelier's light and scattered it into a thousand tiny rainbows. "Will you make me the luckiest man alive and spend the rest of your life with me?"
Silence. The whole room held its breath.
Then Aria was nodding, laughing, and crying all at once. "Yes! Yes, of course, yes!"