CHAPTER HUNDRED & EIGHTY-FIVE

CHAPTER HUNDRED & EIGHTY-FIVE
ASHLEY

Officially… I’M ENGAGED AGAIN.

I’m not even sure how to process it.

I’m sitting on my couch in my apartment—still in the same dress from last night, barefoot, hair wild, makeup smudged—and I don’t even care.

There’s a glittering ring on my finger.

A diamond that wasn’t just picked out, but fought for.

Earned.

Loved.

I held up my hand in front of me, letting the soft morning light catch the facets of the ring, and let out the softest, most unhinged little laugh.

“Oh my God.”

The ring winked back at me like it knew exactly what kind of chaos it had just signed up for.

“I’m engaged. Again.”

I flopped backward on the couch, one arm dramatically slung over my eyes. “To Kyle Black—who technically is now Kyle whatever-his-last-name-is-now since we dropped Blackwood like it was radioactive.”

I sat up again, staring down at the ring, shaking my head like I still couldn’t believe it. “Who proposes in a glass garden under freaking fireworks? Who does that?”

A pause.

“…He does. Obviously.”

I reached for a throw pillow, hugged it against my chest, and sighed so loud I startled myself. “Ugh. And the speech. The speech, Mochii. He said stuff like—‘Not as a chapter I ruined, but as the whole story.’” My voice cracked around the words. “Who says that?! Where did he learn that? Did he take night classes in emotionally devastating confessions?”

Silence.

I turned toward the small furry lump curled up on the rug near the window. Mochii blinked at me once. Unimpressed. Probably judging me for having another emotional spiral at 9:00 a.m. in a gown that smelled like roses and regret.

I pointed a finger at her. “Don’t give me that look. You were not there. You didn’t see his face. Or the way he was shaking when he opened that box. Or how he looked at me like I hung the moon and wrote the stars and probably also baked the damn cake.”

Mochii yawned.

I rolled my eyes. “This is why I need more human friends. Or a journal. Violet is on a vacation with Ryan and their daughter and it's a no phone till we are done thingy. So literally you’re all I have right now, so buckle up.”

I stood and paced the room, barefoot on cool tile, gesturing like I was presenting a TED Talk titled: Why I Absolutely Lost My Mind and Said Yes to the Man Who Once Broke My Heart.

“He said… he said he didn’t want a future built on apology, but on promise. And the part about surrendering his ego? His ego, Mochii. You know how big that thing is. It has its own gravitational field.”

Mochii jumped up on the armrest and stretched, tail flicking lazily.

“I know. I know I should be scared. It’s a second chance at something that blew up in our faces the first time. But I’m not scared. That’s the weird part.”

I sank back onto the couch.

“I’m… calm. Like I’ve been holding my breath for years and finally exhaled.”

I touched the ring again, softly this time. Reverently. Like it might disappear if I wasn’t careful.

“We’re not who we were. I’m not the girl who waited around for him to come home. And he’s not the man who put ambition before love.”

I looked at Mochii again, eyes stinging. “He chose me. Not as a convenient thing to have. Not as some fragile version of the past. But as the only future he wants.”

Mochii blinked.

“I know. I’m being dramatic. But look at me.” I held my hand up again. “You’re looking at a fiancée, Mochii.”

I stood on the couch and did a little spin, arms in the air. “Engaged! Again! To my ex-husband! In the most full-circle rom-com nonsense the universe could possibly orchestrate!”

Mochii meowed.

I gasped. “Right? Right?! This is the part in the movie where the credits roll and the audience sobs into their popcorn.”

I slumped back down with a sigh so deep I almost sank into the cushions.

And then, quietly. Softly. “I love him, Mochii.”

I looked out the window, eyes unfocused. “God help me, but I love him.”

And this time… I think we’re finally ready.

To choose.

To stay.

To begin again.

I was still staring out the window when the knock came.

Three soft raps—confident, not rushed. Like whoever was on the other side knew they were always welcome.

I froze.

Then slowly turned to Mochii.

“Is it him?” I whispered.

Mochii meowed like, who else do you let in here, dramatic woman?

I rushed to the door, tripping over my own excitement and the corner of the throw blanket I'd dragged around the apartment like a cape of emotional vulnerability.

When I opened the door, there he was.

Kyle.

Hair tousled. Gray hoodie and jeans. A brown paper bag in one hand and a ridiculously beautiful bouquet in the other—wildflowers, soft peonies, and eucalyptus wrapped in kraft paper and twine like something out of a Pinterest board. He smelled like warm spice and city wind.

And he smiled like seeing me was the best part of his day.

“Hi,” he said, softly.

My throat tightened. “Hi.”

He lifted the bag. “I brought muffins. And... an aggressive amount of coffee.”

I stepped aside, trying to sound normal when my entire body was still echoing last night’s Will you marry me again? like a bell in a cathedral.

“You’re spoiling me. It's so early in the morning”

“Obviously.” He stepped inside. “I have a lifetime of it to catch up on.”

I closed the door and followed him into the living room where Mochii gave him a side-eye of approval. Or suspicion. Hard to tell with that face.

Kyle placed the muffins on the coffee table and turned to me, handing me the flowers.

“They reminded me of you.”

I blinked. “Because they are a  little overgrown?”

He smirked. “Because they’re beautiful and soft and make any space better just by being in it.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Then—because I was me and my heart was a permanent mess—I muttered, “Ugh. You’re going to make me cry again. I can’t cry in front of muffins. That’s sacrilege.”

Kyle laughed and took my hand, gently guiding me to sit beside him.

We both sank into the couch, shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing.

After a few minutes of companionable silence broken only by the crinkle of the muffin bag and the soft gurgle of the coffee maker doing its sacred work—we each had a cup in hand.

Mine was steaming, sweet, and stupidly perfect. I don’t know how he managed to remember exactly how I liked it, but he did. Of course he did.

Kyle took a slow sip of his own, one arm slung across the back of the couch behind me, fingers absently tracing little shapes against my shoulder like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

I glanced over at him, feeling... full. In the quiet, coffee-scented way.

He was watching me again. Not in the heavy, intense way he used to. This was softer. Familiar. Like I was a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remembered every word to.

“What?” I asked.

He smiled faintly, eyes flicking to Mochii, who was now curled dramatically on the rug like she’d just overseen a royal engagement and needed a nap.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just... this. You. Coffee. Muffins. It’s nice.”

“It is,” I agreed.

Another sip. Another beat.

Then he shifted, setting his mug down and twisting toward me, voice a little quieter now. “Ash?”

I blinked. “Yeah?”

He hesitated just for a second. Then, “Would you ever think about… moving in with me? Not now, not tomorrow—just… someday. Soon-ish. Maybe.”

My heart did a weird little skip. “Back to your place?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. Not that place. Not the old condo. That place held too much of the… before. Too many nights I spent drowning in my own ego.” He took a breath. “I got a new place. Bigger, quieter. Light everywhere. It’s high up and you can see the river from the kitchen. I picked it for the view... but also because it felt like starting over. Like I could finally build something that wasn't just built on ambition.”

I blinked, surprised by how much thought he’d clearly put into it.

“It’s not a monument to who I used to be,” he added, voice softer now. “It’s just… a home. One I want to share. With you.”

Something tightened in my chest. The way he said home—not as a possession, but as a hope.

I looked down at my coffee, then back at him. “So you want me to move in… to your shiny new apartment in the clouds? With a cat who gives you dirty looks every time you walk in?”

He grinned. “Yes. Precisely.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly would this arrangement include?”

He tilted his head, playful. “I’m thinking: shared closet space, unrestricted access to my hoodies, morning muffins, and someone to hold hands with while watching terrible reality TV.”

I laughed. “You’re really sweet-talking me with muffins and cable?”

“And the world’s softest bed,” he added helpfully. “And I’ve been told my shoulder makes an excellent pillow.”

I bit back a grin, then sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

He nodded. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“And Mochii?” I said, glancing toward her.

He gave her a look. “Your majesty is obviously included in this package deal.”

Mochii flicked her tail like she was still undecided, but at least she didn’t hiss.

Kyle leaned over and kissed the side of my head, just beneath my temple. “No pressure. No timeline. Just… if and when you’re ready, there’s space for you. Always.”

I leaned into him and smiled softly. “Thank you.”

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer.

And for a while, we just sat there—no big decisions, no old ghosts, just two people who were finally, truly beginning again.

Together.