Dylan watches me with such open affection that my face heats further. "What?"
"This is so delicious."
We share chocolate mousse for dessert—rich and dark and obscenely good—and Dylan tells me about the past week in San Francisco. About the Miller acquisition finally closing, about Jake's latest dating disaster, about his mother asking when we're coming to dinner again.
"She likes you better than me now," Dylan says with mock offense. "Last week, she called to ask for your opinion on a legal matter. Didn't even ask if I was available."
"What legal matter?"
"Something about easement rights for the neighbor's fence. I don't know, I got offended and stopped listening."
I laugh, imagining Margaret bypassing her CEO son to call me. "Cute.."
"I know you are." Dylan's smile is gorgeous.
At sunset, we walk along the Seine, the city turning golden around us. Boats glide past on the water, their lights beginning to glow in the gathering dusk. Street musicians play somewhere close, accordion music drifting through the evening air.
Dylan stops on Pont des Arts, the bridge covered in love locks that couples have attached to the railing. He turns to face me, and there's something nervous in his expression that makes my pulse quicken.
"Avery, I need to tell you something," he says.
"You do?" I ask, barely breathing.
"These past seven days without you were the longest of my life. And I kept thinking about what I wanted to say when I saw you again. I had this whole speech planned—" He laughs slightly. "But now that you're here, all I can think is: I'm in love with you."
The words land in my chest like truth.
"I'm totally gone for you from the first day, and I want everything with you, Avery," Dylan continues, his gray eyes locked on mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. "I want the fights and the make-ups. I want your terrible hot coffee in the morning and your cold feet at night. I want to meet you halfway on every decision. I want to have trips with you. I want to build a life where we both get to be exactly who we are—ambitious and independent and together."
He pauses, and then I gasp when he drops to one knee and pulls a small box from his pocket.
"Oh my god," I whisper, forgetting how to breathe. Passersby glance back at the scene—someone even stops—but all I see is him. This gorgeous man is kneeling in front of me. I can see him gathering courage for what comes next.
"I know it's fast, but," he opens the box, "Avery Cole, will you marry me? I know we've only been together a few months. But I also know what I want. And it's you. A future with you. Everything." His voice drops. "If you're ready."
Tears slip down my cheeks, but I'm smiling so hard my face hurts. "Yes." I hear myself say. "Yes, yes! I'm ready now."
Dylan's expression transforms—surprise giving way to hope, giving way to pure joy. "Really?"
"Of course. I'm all in. Now, come here." I step closer, and as he rises, I grab his shirt and pull him closer, never to let go. Rising on my toes, I kiss him. Desperately. Joyfully. Perfectly.
We kiss on the bridge as the sun sets over Paris, and I feel like I've stepped into a moment I'll remember forever. His hands cradle my face. I taste salt from my own tears, feel his smile against my mouth. Applause erupts around us. I'd forgotten about the crowd. A small group has gathered, and a street musician started playing something romantic. Someone whistles. Someone else shouts congratulations in French.
Dylan laughs, his forehead pressed to mine. "We have an audience."
"Yeah," I whisper.
His fingers are trembling slightly as he takes out the ring—a stunning diamond that catches the golden light of the setting sun. He takes my hand gently, and with infinite care, he slides the ring onto my finger.
More applause. More cheers. I wave with my left hand, and the crowd goes wild. Dylan keeps his arm firmly around my waist.
When we finally make our way back to his hotel, the air between us is charged with something more than just attraction. It's intimacy. It's trust. It's the knowledge that we're choosing each other completely. Dylan opens the door to his suite, and I stop in the doorway. He has a balcony overlooking the city with fairy lights strung up, casting everything in warm golden light. There's wine chilling in a bucket, two glasses waiting, and rose petals scattered across the floor leading to the balcony.
"When did you do this?" I ask, my voice thick with emotion.
"Called ahead before my flight." Dylan wraps his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. "I wanted tonight to be special."
I tilt my head back to look at him, a teasing smile playing on my lips. "Pretty presumptuous, ordering all this before I even said yes."
