"They get married."
"And after they get married?" Her words are a whisper.
"They make babies."
Chapter Thirty-Six
Victoria
“I can’t believe they’re open,” I exclaim as Christopher, the kids, and I walk up to the front door to our favorite coffee shop. Sienna mentioned that she was in the mood for cheesecake, and I backed her up because I never say no to cheesecake. Since she had the brilliant idea at nine o’clock in the evening though, I was certain we’d have to go someplace else, because Ms. Winters usually closes the coffee shop at eight. Sienna insisted she checked online, and it would be open until ten o’clock.
“Told you,” Sienna says smugly.
As we step inside, Ms. Winters greets us with an excited wave, telling us to sit wherever we like. The place is empty, which makes me wonder why she’s closing later.
As soon as we sit in the booth, she takes our order, winking at Christopher as she leaves. That’s my first indication that something’s up. My parents first brought me here when I was twelve, so I’ve known Ms. Winters for more than seventeen years. She’s not a winker. My second indication is that Lucas and Chloe haven’t been bickering since we arrived. Sienna and Christopher are exchanging accomplice glances every few seconds, further adding to my suspicions.
“Okay, what’s going on?” I ask no one in particular, scanning everyone.
“Nothing,” Chloe quips.
“Wrong answer. Now I know for sure that something’s up.”
Lucas plunks his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands. “Told you we shouldn’t have said anything to Chloe. The midget can’t keep secrets.”
“Lucas!” I admonish.
“I’m not a midget,” Chloe volleys back, frowning at Lucas.
I zero in on Sienna and Christopher, expecting an explanation, but both remain tight-lipped. Opening my mouth, I intend to use some old-fashioned emotional blackmail to get them to spill everything but Ms. Winters arrives, placing the cakes in front of us.
“Wow, you’ve outdone yourself with the cake decorations, Ms. Winters,” Sienna comments. As the woman in question thanks my sister and saunters away, I inspect the cakes. Truly, Ms. Winters has perfected her winter decorations. Lucas’s and Chloe’s cakes have a snowman on top, Sienna’s a snowflake. Christopher’s has a green fir tree.
Mine has a white fir tree… and a ring.
“Oh my God.” My pulse ratchets up instantly and furiously as I blink, and blink again. The ring is not part of the frosting. It has a white gold band, and in the center is the most beautiful diamond I’ve seen. “Is that…?”
My voice fades as emotion takes over, clogging my throat and warming my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I peek at Christopher. Sitting right next to me, he beams. The kids are on the opposite side of the table, watching intently. Wordlessly, Christopher takes the ring between his fingers and holds it out to me.
“Victoria Hensley, will you be my wife?”
Drawing in a lungful of air, I glance at this wonderful man in front of me, wanting to memorize ever
y single detail about this moment. The way Christopher’s chest rises and falls in rapid succession, showing that he’s as consumed by this as I am. The way the kids lean over the table, as if afraid they’ll miss the word when it finally tumbles out of my lips, showing they want this as much as I do.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice rich with emotion but strong at the same time. “I do. I want to be your wife.”
Christopher slides the ring on my finger, and I have no time to admire the way it looks on my finger before his mouth comes down to mine in a sweet kiss. After pulling back, he draws tiny circles with his thumb on my wrist, a soft move that awakens all my senses. His eyes hold a mischievous glint full of promises. This man is as hungry for me as I am for him.
The kids choose this moment to erupt in cheers, hopping over to hug and us. Ms. Winters also congratulates us, revealing that Christopher called ahead of time, asking her to stay open longer today so we could come in and have the place to ourselves.
I’m still too overrun with emotions to make any long speeches, but under the table, I squeeze Christopher’s hand, letting him know how much this means to me. There will be plenty of time for words later.
“We have to start searching for your dress,” Sienna says, once everyone is back in their seats and focusing on their cheesecake. “And a location. And—”
“Breathe, Sienna.” Chuckling, I add, “We should set a date first.”
“As soon as possible,” Christopher declares, curling an arm around my waist and pulling me close to him until our hips collide. The touch electrifies me from my center to the tip of my fingers.