We walk into the restaurant and spot Stella’s parents at a large, round table draped in a rich, red tablecloth, with soft candlelight flickering in the center.
Eleanor is laughing at something my stepmother says—a sight I could get used to.
We make our way over, and there’s a flurry of hugs, handshakes, and warm introductions as Stella and I officially introduce Ansel and Theo to everyone.
Conversation flows easily. We talk about the show, the week, and the championship win—my dad is gushing like we’ve already gotten the champion rings.
Honestly, life feels good. Full. Like this moment, surrounded by friends and family, might just be the peak.
After dinner, Vince insists on dessert even though everyone protests. “We’re celebrating,” he says, ordering tiramisu for the table.
A few bites in, Stella squeezes my hand under the table. I glance over at her, and she gives me that look—it's time.
I clear my throat and meet Vince and Eleanor’s eyes.
“I’ve been in love with Stella since we were just a couple of reckless kids figuring life out. Even back then, when I didn’t deserve her, I knew she was it for me.” Another squeeze from Stella. I catch Ansel’s expression across the table—wide-eyed and clearly wondering how she didn’t know.
I take a breath, the moment heavy with truth.
“And then she gave me a second chance. A rare, impossible, undeserved second chance. And I swear to you both, I plan to spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets it. Not for a second.”
I shift slightly in my seat, keeping my gaze steady on her father.
“Before she came home for the play… I asked her to marry me because I can’t picture a future where she’s not my wife. My partner. My forever.”
The color drains from Vince’s face—then rushes back in, deep and red.
With his fork still in hand, he points it at me like it’s a weapon. “You’re telling me you’ve been engaged fortwo weeks?” His voice booms. He slams the fork onto the table. “Two fucking weeksand no one told me?”
Eleanor places a hand on his arm to calm him, but his fury shifts to my parents. “You knew? Did you both know?”
Marcello and Vanessa freeze like deer in headlights. “Vince,” my dad says cautiously, “if we had known, we would’ve told you.”
Ansel and Theo suddenly become very interested in their napkins. Stella speaks up, her tone gentle but unwavering.
“Papa, please. Don’t be angry. You’ve always known how I feel about Donovan. You watched him move across the country for me. Why are you surprised we’re getting married? Why can’t you just be happy?”
She walks over and wraps her arms around his neck. “You were the first man I ever loved. But I’m going to build a life with Donovan. A home. A family.”
For a second, Vince is speechless.
Then my mother gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “Oh god, Stella—please tell me this isn’t because you’repregnant!”
I practically choke on my own breath. Stella’s eyes go wide.
“Oh my god,no.I’m not ready for kids, Mom.”
I still remember the first day I saw Stella. Sophomore year. My second day at a new school. I was sitting in the cafeteria alone—of course.
She was walking through the lunch line, carefully inspecting apples like one might inspect jewels. Her long black hair was braided down her back in two perfect ropes. She was laughing at something another girl had said, and the sound made my heart skip a beat. Not in a cheesy way. In a holy-shit-what-was-that kind of way. I knew at that moment I’d spend the rest of my life wanting to hear that laugh again.
Then she turned.
Lunch tray in her hands. And the world just… stopped.
It was like a damn angel appeared right in front of me. I still remember exactly what she was wearing—dark denim jeans that fit like a glove and a pastel pink baby doll tee with a tombstone that read 'Wish You Were Here.'
She looked like chaos and softness wrapped into one. Like a masterpiece, the gods carved just for me.
