30. Choosing Each Other #2
The room went still in a different way now. I reached into my jacket and removed the second card Riley had not seen.
"So I'm making something official tonight."
Her eyes narrowed, warning me she hated surprises.
Too late.
"I'm offering her an ownership stake in the future she helped build."
Riley didn't move. Applause broke across the ballroom.
Bianca covered her mouth, then swiped at one cheek with the heel of her hand. Ava squeezed my fingers.
"She has to say yes," Ava whispered.
"I know."
"Go ask her."
I stepped away from the podium and held out my hand. Riley climbed the stage slowly, every emotion she would deny later written across her face.
"You could have told me," she murmured when she reached me.
"You would have argued."
"I'm arguing now."
"And you're allowed to say no."
Her eyes searched mine.
"You announced it in front of two hundred people."
"I announced the offer. The answer is yours."
Her smile caught on a tear.
I turned us toward the crowd. "The future of this resort does not belong to the man who used to fight for a living."
I looked at Riley.
"It belongs to the woman who taught me what was worth fighting for."
This time, when the applause rose, I let it.
Ava slipped between us and took Riley's hand too.
The violin trio shifted into something slower before Riley had recovered enough to threaten me properly.
"You ambushed me in front of two hundred people."
"You smiled."
"I was in shock."
"You still smiled."
Her hand remained in mine as I led her off the stage. Guests closed around us with congratulations, raised glasses, and questions Riley answered on instinct. She thanked investors, redirected a reporter, and reminded a server about the allergy-safe desserts without missing a step.
Then the ballroom lights dimmed.
String lights warmed above the terrace doors. The first notes of the song we had once danced to in my kitchen threaded through the room.
Riley stopped.
I glanced toward Bianca. She lifted one shoulder, unrepentant.
"You planned this too?" Riley asked.
"Not this part."
"Liar."
"Come here."
I drew her onto the dance floor before she could find another reason to work. Her palm settled against my shoulder. Mine rested at her waist, and for the first time all night, she let the room continue without her.
Around us, people watched.
Months ago, the attention would have tightened every muscle in my body. I would have searched for danger, calculated exits, and wondered what the cameras could take from us.
Tonight, I only saw her.
The woman who had met me at my worst and refused to confuse my damage with my destiny. The woman who had made room for Ava before she ever asked for space in my life.
"You really made me part owner," she said.
"I offered. You still have to sign."
"What happens if I refuse?"
"I keep asking until you get tired of saying no."
"That is not how contracts work."
"It worked with everything else."
Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you trying to talk me into now?"
I slowed our steps.
The music continued around us, but the room seemed to fall away—the lights, the tables, the people watching from beyond the edge of the dance floor.
Riley noticed the change in me. Her smile faded into something softer.
"Luca?"
"I spent a long time believing that loving someone meant keeping every bad thing away from them." My hand tightened at her waist. "Then you walked into my life and proved I couldn't control everything."
"That must have been devastating for you."
"It was a difficult adjustment."
Her mouth curved, but her eyes had begun to shine.
"You taught me something better," I said. "That loving someone means letting them stand beside you. Letting them argue with you. Letting them rewrite your contracts."
"They needed work."
"They were legally flawless."
"They were emotionally unhinged."
"Also flawless."
She laughed, but the sound caught when I reached into my jacket. The ring rested between my fingers, catching the glow of the lights.
Riley stopped moving. For once, I had managed to leave her without an answer.
"This is the proposal? You're doing it in the middle of a dance?"
"I warned you this was coming," I said.
"You warned me vaguely."
"I was preserving the element of surprise."
"You announced my ownership onstage."
"I'm still learning subtlety."
Her gaze dropped to the ring, then lifted to mine.
Every joke I had prepared disappeared.
"Before you, I thought surviving was the same as living." My voice roughened. "Then you came into our home and made it louder. Messier. Better. You gave Ava someone who understands her without asking her to become someone else. You gave me a reason to stop fighting every battle alone."
Tears gathered in Riley's eyes.
"I don't need you to promise that nothing will go wrong," I said. "I only need you beside me when it does."
Her lips parted, but no words came. So I said the only ones that mattered.
"Riley Brooks, will you marry me?"
A tear slipped down her cheek as she laughed.
"You made that much harder to make fun of than I expected."
"I can start over."
"Don't you dare."
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes."
The word struck harder than any roar from an arena.
Relief, joy, and something too large to name moved through me as I slid the ring onto her finger.
Then I kissed her. Slowly.
Not for the cameras clicking beyond the lights. Not for the investors or the staff or anyone who had spent the evening watching us.
For her.
When we parted, Riley rested her forehead against mine and stared down at the ring.
"You already planned the wedding, didn't you?"
"Only the important parts."
Her eyes narrowed. "Define important."
"I've attended enough fight-night after-parties to know I don't trust two hundred people near an open bar or our cake."
"Our cake," she repeated.
"That's usually how weddings work."
Warmth climbed into her cheeks. "Maybe the beach."
"At sunset?"
"Too crowded. Too hot." Her fingers curled against the back of my neck as we continued swaying. "Early morning. Before the sand gets busy."
I nodded, committing every word to memory. "Ava would like that."
"She'd need to know exactly what was happening. A schedule. Pictures, maybe. Somewhere quiet to go if it got overwhelming."
"And no scratchy dress."
"Definitely no scratchy dress."
"A soft one," I said. "Or shorts."
Riley laughed. "She might insist on her purple sneakers."
"Then everyone else can coordinate around them."
Something tender moved through her expression.
There was no discussion of how to make Ava fit the day. The day would fit her. It was as simple as that.
"We could have breakfast afterward," Riley said. "Pancakes instead of a formal reception."
"With chocolate chips."
"And whipped cream."
"Fruit too, so we can pretend we're responsible."
She settled closer against me. "You've thought about this."
"I've thought about you walking toward me."
Her breath caught.
"What happens after that?" she asked.
"I spend the rest of my life making the walk worth it."
Riley lifted her head. "That's a lot to promise."
"It is."
I held her gaze.
"And what if I suddenly demand cake for two hundred people?"
"I'll hire security."
She laughed. "No surprise helicopters."
"I make no promises."
"Luca."
"Fine. No helicopters."
"Or motorcycles."
"One unreasonable restriction at a time."
She kissed me before I could renegotiate.
The balcony doors closed behind us, muting the ballroom to a distant pulse of strings and laughter.
Moonlight stretched across the water. The resort glowed below, every terrace lit, every window alive. For months, I had looked at this place and seen numbers, threats, mistakes I could not punch my way through.
Now Riley stood beside me with a pen in her hand.
Bianca had left the contract on the small marble table with two glasses of champagne and a note that read: Try not to ruin the paperwork with tears.
Riley read it and snorted. "She knows you too well."
"I don't cry."
"You almost cried onstage."
I took the pen from her, clicked it once, and held it back out. "Sign before I reconsider."
She smiled, but when she looked down at the contract, the teasing faded.
The pages lifted at one corner in the ocean breeze. Her name waited beside mine.
"You're sure," she said.
It was not a question about the company.
I stepped closer. "I've never been more sure of anything."
Her gaze met mine. "That sounds rehearsed."
"It isn't. I would've made it better."
"That, I believe."
I rested my hand over hers where it hovered above the signature line. "This isn't me giving you something. You helped to build it. You earned it. I'm just making sure no one can ever pretend otherwise."
Her throat moved. Then she signed.
Riley Brooks.
The ink settled beneath the balcony lights, and something in my chest settled with it. Not relief exactly. Something stronger. Something that felt like home chosen on purpose.
I added my signature, turned the pages, and initialed where the attorney had marked. When we finished, Riley stared at the contract like it might disappear.
"So that's it?" she asked.
"That's it."
"I own part of the resort."
"You own part of our empire."
She laughed softly. "That is an obnoxious word."
"You'll get used to it."
I handed her a glass. We touched the rims together, the sound small against the sea.
"To tomorrow," she said.
"To every tomorrow after it."
She took a sip, then leaned into me, her shoulder fitting beneath my arm like it had always belonged there.
Inside, Ava's laughter carried faintly through the glass. Donny shouted something about cake. The life waiting for us was loud, imperfect, and already ours.
I kissed her temple. Soon enough, she would become my wife.
Tonight, beneath the moon, I signed my name beside hers—and stopped imagining any future I had to face alone.