Chapter 178

Chapter 178
Emily's POV

By the time we got back to the house, the sun had started its slow descent toward the horizon, painting everything gold and hazy.

Mason disappeared into the kitchen immediately, claiming he needed to "handle something," which usually meant he was cooking something elaborate and refusing help. Ethan grabbed beers from the fridge and settled on the couch, pulling me down next to him and propping his feet on the coffee table like he'd lived here his whole life.

"So," he said, passing me a bottle and keeping one for himself. "How does it feel? Being done?"

I thought about it, rolling the cold glass between my palms. "Weird. Good weird, but weird."

"That's because you've spent four years in survival mode." He took a sip of his beer, his gaze distant like he was working through something. "Now you get to figure out what comes after surviving."

"Thriving," Alex said from the doorway, his tie loosened and his jacket gone. He'd changed into dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that made him look less like a CEO and more like the version of himself he only showed us. "That's what comes next."

"Thriving," I repeated, testing the word. It felt foreign and aspirational and maybe—just maybe—possible.

Mason called from the kitchen that dinner was almost ready, and we migrated toward the dining room, where he'd already set the table with the nice plates we only used for holidays and important occasions. There was wine, and candles, and the kind of bread Mason made from scratch when he had too much nervous energy. We sat down together, the four of us fitting into our usual spots like we'd been doing this for decades instead of months, and I let myself feel the full weight of what we'd built.

Halfway through the meal, Mason disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an enormous cake—three layers, covered in buttercream frosting and decorated with delicate sugar flowers that must have taken him hours. He set it on the table with a flourish, looking pleased with himself.

"Okay," I said, eyeing the cake suspiciously. "What's the occasion? Graduation cakes are usually smaller and less... architectural."

"Just cut it," Mason said, handing me a knife.

I sliced into the center, and something solid resisted the knife—not cake, but something harder, wrapped in frosting. I paused, frowning, and used the knife to dig it out—a small velvet box. My brain stuttered, trying to make sense of it, and then I saw Mason's expression—nervous and hopeful and trying very hard to look casual.

"Open it," Ethan said quietly, and there was something in his voice that made my hands unsteady.

I wiped the frosting off with my napkin and opened the box slowly. Inside were three rings, nestled together in the velvet lining—each one distinct, each one clearly chosen with care. My heart started doing something complicated and uneven behind my ribs, and I set the box down on the table before I dropped it.

"These are—" I stopped, looking at Mason, then at Ethan, then at Alex, who was watching me with the kind of intensity that made it hard to breathe. "You got rings."

"We wanted you to know this is real," Mason said, his voice a little strangled. "Not just—living together or being together, but permanent. The kind of permanent that doesn't need a courthouse or a piece of paper."

Alex stood, moving around the table to stand beside me, and picked up one of the rings—the one with the darkest band, almost black in the candlelight. "You proposed to us," he said evenly, like he was stating a fact instead of referencing the most emotionally vulnerable moment of my life. "We're returning the gesture."

Ethan took another ring, holding it up to the light and grinning at the way it caught the glow from the candles. "Minus the formal speech, because Mason thought we should skip the part where we make you cry."

"I'm about to cry anyway," I said, my voice cracking slightly, and Mason laughed—nervous and delighted and completely transparent.

I looked at the three rings, each one a tangible promise that we'd built something solid enough to hold weight, and felt the enormity of it crash over me. They'd commissioned these—planned this—months in advance, probably, and kept it secret while I stressed over finals and capstone projects and whether I'd actually make it to graduation. They'd believed in this future long before I'd let myself admit I wanted it.

"Put them on," I managed, my voice thick with the kind of emotion I usually tried to keep contained. "I want to see them."

Mason went first, sliding his ring onto his left hand and holding it up for inspection, his expression shifting from nervous to awed. Ethan followed, his ring catching the light as he flexed his fingers and grinned at me like I'd just given him the best gift in the world. Alex was slower, more deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine as he pushed the black band onto his finger and let it settle there like it had always belonged.

"Wait," I said suddenly, my throat tight. "If you all have rings, what about—" I stopped, because asking felt greedy, but the question hung there anyway.

Mason's expression shifted—nervous again, but in a different way, like he was bracing for my reaction. He stood and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a box that was distinctly different from the ring box. Larger. He set it on the table in front of me, his hands shaking slightly.