“Do you have it?” Samantha whispers.
I pat my pocket. “Right here.”
“This is so exciting.” Molly is practically vibrating. “She’s going to freak out.”
I grin at them. “That’s the plan.”
A few minutes later, Julia emerges from the bedroom, and the breath leaves my body.
She’s a vision. A short jacket frames her face. Below it, the peach silk skirt cascades over her pregnant belly, the gold embroidery catching the firelight. The style accentuates her pregnant curves, making her look like a goddess of spring, all warmth and fertility and life. Her dark hair is still in its messy bun, a few fallen strands framing her flushed cheeks.
“Does it look okay?” she asks nervously.
“You look perfect,” Molly breathes, capturing the moment with her camera phone, Samantha nodding beside her. Eomma is already crying, dabbing her tears away with a handkerchief.
She knows what’s coming because she’s the one who helped me plan this proposal. The hanbok was her idea, and from Julia’s reaction I can tell it was the right choice. It makes her feel beautiful, and I want her to feel like a princess when I ask her to be my wife.
I move toward Julia, hand clutching the small velvet box in my pocket. My heart is hammering so hard I’m surprised she can’t hear it. I go down on one knee, and she gasps. Her hands fly to her mouth, and I hear Molly’s gleeful squeak behind me.
“Julia.” My voice comes out steadier than I expected. “I’ve loved you since the moment I scented you.I’ve loved you through everything that came after. The complications. The chaos. The moments when you doubted yourself. When you stood up for yourself. I’ve loved watching you become the woman you were always meant to be.”
Tears are streaming down her face now, but she’s smiling. Radiant.
“You’re my mate. You’re the mother of my children. You’re my best friend and my favorite person and the reason I wake up happy every single morning.” I open the box, revealing the ring I’ve been hiding. A round diamond, classic and elegant just like her, set on a gold band with a subtle woodgrain pattern so it has a little bit of me in it, too. “I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you’ve made me. Julia, will you marry me?”
She laughs through her tears, a sound of pure joy. “Yes. Of course, yes. I can’t believe this is really happening.”
I slide the ring onto her finger and stand to kiss her, cupping her face in my hands while our daughters cheer and Eomma sniffles behind us. When we finally break apart, she’s glowing brighter than the Christmas tree.
“You did such an amazing job planning all this,” she whispers. “Surprising me with the girls and Eomma. The hanbok. The ring. How did you pull it off?”
“I had a lot of help.” I nod toward Samantha and Molly and Eomma, who are all crying and hugging each other while they try to record everything. “They’re excellent co-conspirators. Richard said you couldn’t contact them, but he never saidIcouldn’t.”
“We’ve all been dying to tell you,” Samantha admits. “It was so hard keeping the secret!”
Julia pulls her girls and mom into another group hug, and I step back to watch my new family. My mate. My future stepdaughters and mother-in-law. My pups, still safe inside their mother’s belly.
“Best gift ever,” Julia declares, her voice muffled against her mom’s shoulder.
I couldn’t agree more.
Chapter 38
Julia
Ihaven’t seen my feet since before Christmas. My belly has swelled to the size of a prize-winning pumpkin, and bending forward is a distant memory. I’ve given up on shoes with laces entirely. Slip-ons or nothing. It is not possible for me to be more pregnant.
Ian’s ears perk when my stomach growls, which seems to be every hour, on the hour these days. “Are you hungry? I can makesomething.”
“The fridge is still packed,” I announce from my spot on the couch, where I’m currently stationed like a beached whale. “I don’t know how we’re going to eat through the food our mothers have made for us. It’s enough for an army.” They’ve both been working overtime to make sure we are prepared for new parenthood…if those babies would just get here.
“We are expecting an army,” he reminds me, padding into the living room with a reheated bowl of food. “An army of three, to be exact. Plus an army of relatives eager to hold them.”
“Can’t wait,” I say, accepting the food gratefully. It’s my mom’stteokguk, a traditional rice cake soup meant to grant good luck, and it’s delicious.
He grins as he watches me scarf it down, his tail giving that happy little wag that always makes my chest feel tight. “I love you,” he says for no reason. He must tell me ten times a day, and I will never get tired of it.
“Love you, too.”
