In the kitchen, her husband stood among four or five caterers, all scurrying around the oversized island, transforming it into a buffet fit for royalty. Dozens of covered trays, elegant drink dispensers, linen napkins, and what looked suspiciously like fine China were being arranged with precision.
“What in the world…?”
Bryce looked up and grinned, clearly pleased by her stunned expression. Pouring a cup of coffee, he climbed the stairs and met her halfway, where she still stood frozen, surveying the activity below like a queen overlooking her kingdom.
Handing her the mug, he gently placed his hand on her hip and brushed a soft kiss against her cheek, drawing her attention to him.
“Mornin’, beautiful,” he said. “Excited for today?”
Beth nodded absently, gesturing with her coffee mug toward the flurry of activity in the kitchen. “What is all of this?”
Bryce gave her an innocent look that didn’t fool her for a second.
“Lynn said my job was to provide a full brunch and cinnamon rolls,” he said, as if that explained everything. “So, I catered a full Irish breakfast from Jack Quinn’s, a patisserie sampler from The French Kitchen, and coffee from Mission Brew.”
Beth blinked, laughing softly in disbelief. “Babe, a full brunch in our family is eggs, bacon, and cinnamon rolls. Not all this.”
Bryce raised his eyebrows slightly, feigning innocence. “A little over the top?”
She gave him a knowing smile and stepped closer, placing her free hand on his shoulder. She kissed him gently on the cheek—the same way he had kissed her.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll happily do it every morning if it means you’ll call me ‘babe’ and kiss me like that.”
Blushing, Beth shook her head with a shy smile. “I should go get ready.”
“You know,” Bryce said, following her with his eyes as she turned to go, “you don’t have to listen to Lynn.”
Beth paused, confused. “What?”
His voice dropped as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“About the bra.”
“BRYCE!” she shrieked, swatting him. Several heads turned at her outburst, but Bryce just laughed and caught the hand she’d smacked him with, pressing a kiss to her palm.
“You’re so over the top.”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “And you’re so in love with me.”
He held her gaze, his expression open and readable. In that stillness, something flickered behind her eyes—surprise, maybe. Or acknowledgement.
With a soft smile, she pressed her palm to his cheek before turning to head back upstairs.
Her heart was pounding.
She knew what he meant when he said that. ‘You’re in love with me’ wasn’t a challenge—it was a promise. A reminder that he would wait for her to say the words.
The truth was… he was right.
She was in love with him.
And maybe—just maybe—she knew exactly how she wanted to tell him.
After she got her sister’s help.
Beth was stretched out on the couch with a book in hand, half-lost in the story, when the elevator doors slid open, revealing her husband… and the entourage he’d apparently gone to retrieve.
