He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and music filled the room—soft and soulful. He Proposed by Kelly Price. A moment later, she was in his arms, swaying with him. He couldn’t sing, and neither could she, but neither of them cared.
He proposed to me
He proposed with a diamond ring
“You are so romantic. Who knew?”
“Shit, you bring this shit out of me. I’ve been gone, and I felt like I was letting you down. You deserve this shit.”
“Oh, baby. Stop, I’m happy. I’m the last person to ask about sitting still. But I’m proud of you. I’m thankful for you. I could never feel let down.”
“Sit with me for a minute,” he said, leading her over to the small couch she’d set up in the corner of the studio. “Breathe. Process.”
They sat, and she curled into his side, one hand resting on her belly, the other—her left hand—held up in front of her so she could see the ring.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
His arm was around her shoulders, thumb tracing lazy circles on her arm. “How you feeling?”
“Overwhelmed. Happy. Scared. Excited.” She looked up at him. “All of it.”
“Yeah. Me too.” He kissed the top of her head. “I was shaking so bad when I pulled that ring out. Thought I was gonna drop it.”
She laughed. “You were nervous?”
“Hell yeah, I was nervous. You could’ve said no.”
“I wasn’t going to say no.”
“I didn’t know that.” He tilted her chin up. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
They sat like that for a while, the music playing softly, Little LA doing somersaults, the reality of what happened slowly sinking in.
Then Kennedi smelled it.
Food.
She sat up, frowning. “Wait. Is someone cooking?”
Rolani tried to hide his smile. “Maybe.”
“Rolani.” She looked at him. “Who’s upstairs?”
“Come on.” He stood, pulling her up with him. “Let me show you.”
He led her to the back of the studio, where the staircase was. It led to the upstairs lounge area she’d barely had time to set up yet. A kitchen, some seating, and a space she planned to use for meetings or breaks between recordings.
But when they reached the top of the stairs, she stopped.
The space had been transformed.
Candles everywhere—on the counters, on the small table that had been set up near the window. String lights hung across the exposed beams of the ceiling, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. The table was set for two—white tablecloth, real dishes, wine glasses, and flowers in the center.
And in the kitchen, a chef in whites was plating food that smelled incredible.
“Rolani, this is so beautiful and thoughtful. It’s perfect.” Her voice broke again.
“Engagement dinner, First date. I don’t know,” he said simply, hand on the small of her back. “Just us.”
