"Drink it, Candi. Or pour it out. Whatever you need to do to get to the ring."
My hands were absolutely trembling as I carefully poured the remaining champagne into the water glass, watching as a gorgeous emerald-cut diamond ring settled at the bottom of my empty champagne flute.
"Oh my god," I whispered.
Bart reached in, plucking the ring out and drying it on his napkin. Then he took my left hand in his.
"Candi Reed," he said, and the entire restaurant had gone quiet. Everyone was watching. "A year ago, you trespassed on my property and filmed me without permission."
Laughter rippled through the restaurant.
"Best worst decision I ever made," I managed through tears that were already falling.
"You turned my life upside down. Made me viral. Forced me to work with someone who checked her phone every five minutes and talked about social media analytics and actually used hashtags in real conversation."
"I don't do that anymore!"
"I know." His voice softened. "You became someone even more remarkable than the woman who stumbled into my life that December. You found your true self. Your purpose. Your joy." He paused. "And somehow, impossibly, you made me fall completely in love with you."
My breath hitched. "Bart—"
"I love you, Candi. I love your kind heart and your terrible Christmas movie choices and the way you sometimes check your phone but then put it down to be present with me. I love how you cry reading wish lists from families who need help. I love how you've transformed from someone who measured worth in followers to someone who measures it in lives changed and moments lived fully." He lifted the ring. "I love the lifewe've built together. The home we share. The work we do. The quiet mornings and the chaotic coordination and everything in between." His voice roughened. "Marry me. Be my partner in everything. Let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me."
"Yes," I choked out. "Yes, yes, absolutely yes."
He slid the ring onto my finger—a perfect fit, because Bart Kane never did anything halfway. His fingers lingered on mine, thumb brushing my knuckles, and heat flared through me despite the audience.
"Mine," he said, low enough only I could hear.
"Yours," I whispered back.
Then, through my tears, I started giggling. "Oh my God, I'm going to be Candi Kane."
Bart started laughing too, that deep rumble I loved. "I didn't even think about that."
"It's perfect. It's too perfect. Somehow it fits."
"It really does." He was grinning as he kissed me.
The restaurant erupted—applause, cheers, people standing. When we finally broke apart, I was crying and laughing at the same time, holding my hand up to watch the diamond catch firelight.
"Let me see." I turned my hand, mesmerized. "Bart, this is—when did you even—"
He guided me back to my chair, pulling his close so we were pressed together, his arm around my shoulders. "I've been planning since September. Had the ring made in October. Asked your dad for his blessing over Thanksgiving—"
"You asked my dad?"
"Of course I asked your dad. I'm traditional about some things."
"What did he say?"
Bart grinned. "That it was about time, and that he'd never seen you this happy."
Fresh tears welled up. "I am happy. So incredibly happy."
"Good." He kissed my temple. "That's all I want. Your happiness. Always."
Gerald Thompson called out from across the restaurant: "About damn time, Kane!"
