Chapter 84 What is this—Ocean’s Four?
The scent of buttery croissants and maple-glazed bacon lingered in the air as the four of them sat around the sunny breakfast nook. Morning light spilled across the table, catching steam off fresh coffee and warm fruit compote.
Amelia sat between her parents, still in one of Bryson’s Henley shirts and soft leggings, hair loosely pinned. Bryson, crisp in a long-sleeve polo and jeans, was uncharacteristically quiet—watching her more than eating.
“So what’s on the agenda today?” Maggie asked, sipping her tea with a smile. “Maybe we could all go out for a little while. There’s that outdoor art walk still showing through the vineyards. And the new seafood place on the marina?”
Before either of the young couple could respond, Bryson’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, jaw ticking faintly. “I’m so sorry—give me one minute.” He stood, pressing the phone to his ear as he stepped into the next room.
Maggie turned to Amelia with a look. “He’s so polite. You sure he’s not Canadian?”
Amelia chuckled, then leaned in. “I actually forgot to tell you both something.”
Quincy looked over the rim of his mug. “Forgot to tell us what, baby?”
She smiled softly, fingers wrapping around her cup. “My divorce… it was finalized Monday. Everything’s official. It’s over.”
Maggie froze for half a beat before beaming, reaching for Amelia’s hand across the table. “Oh, sweetheart…”
Quincy’s mouth curved into a slow, proud grin. “About damn time,” he said, standing to pull her into a hug.
Just then, Bryson returned to the room and stopped short at the scene—Amelia wrapped in her father’s arms, Maggie patting her back with glistening eyes.
He raised a brow. “Told them the good news, huh?”
“I did,” Amelia smiled, turning to him.
Bryson leaned down and kissed her temple. “I’m proud of you.” Then his tone shifted, apologetic. “But I hate to say—I’m going to have to head back this afternoon. Something’s come up. Emergency, I need to go into the office.”
“On a Sunday?” she asked, brow furrowed. “But Mom and Dad just invited us out.”
Bryson hesitated for just a second too long.
Before he could speak, Quincy stepped in with a chuckle. “Sweetheart, when a man runs a multi-billion-dollar company, Sundays are sometimes sacrificed. Let him handle what he needs to. We’ll still take you out. Make a day of it.”
Maggie nodded. “Absolutely. We’ve got you.”
Bryson gave Quincy a silent, grateful look.
They finished breakfast at a leisurely pace. When it was time to go, Amelia walked Bryson to the front door. Her fingers toyed with the hem of his sleeve as they stood together.
“I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow,” he said, brushing her cheek.
“You promise?”
He smiled, soft and steady. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She kissed him goodbye, lingering a beat too long, then watched as he walked down the stone path toward his car.
Later that Morning — Just Beyond the Property
A few streets over, hidden behind a grove of swaying oaks, a sleek black SUV idled quietly.
Claire’s voice crackled over the walkie. “Alright. Prescott team has left the premises. All clear.”
There was a beat of silence—then Roderick’s voice came through another channel. “We really using walkie-talkies for this? What is this—Ocean’s Four?”
“I feel like we should have codenames,” Lila deadpanned from the passenger seat, already pulling off her sunglasses. “I call Operation Champagne Sparkle.”
Roderick snorted. “You would.”
Claire stepped out, clipboard already in hand. “Y’all can joke all you want, but this is a military-grade operation. Engagement Party: Elite Edition.”
Just then, from down the street, Bryson emerged from behind a second SUV—hoodie up, black jeans, cap pulled low like he was preparing for a tactical breach instead of a proposal.
Everyone stopped.
Roderick blinked. “My guy… are you doing a stakeout or proposing marriage?”
Lila wheezed. “You look like you’re about to sneak into your own engagement party.”
Claire folded her arms. “Did you seriously think you needed a disguise?”
Bryson shrugged, unfazed. “Didn’t want to risk Amelia seeing me. We’ve only got a few hours.”
Armando pulled up behind them and stepped out just in time to catch the tail end. He gave Bryson a slow once-over.
“And who are you supposed to be?” he asked. “Budget John Wick? Or are we doing the Jason Bourne: Engagement Protocol?”
Lila cracked up. “Please. He’s giving Mission: Emotionally Committed.”
Claire doubled over laughing. “You’re not rescuing a hostage, Bryson. You’re proposing to one.”
Bryson rolled his eyes and popped the trunk. “Y’all done?”
“Not even close,” Roderick called. “But we’ll pause the roast until after she says yes.”
“Grab the damn lights,” Bryson muttered. “We’ve got work to do.”
Claire lifted her walkie again, grin firmly in place. “Engagement Party Ops, this is Control. Romeo is on the move. Repeat—Romeo is on the move.”
“Copy that,” Lila said, suppressing another laugh. “Let the love-fest begin.”
And just like that, the space shifted.
Unmarked vans rolled in with quiet precision. A high-end catering team stepped out, black-clad and efficient, unloading warming cases, rolling racks, and crystal-lined trays that chimed softly as they moved. Linen bags were stacked. Champagne was iced. Tables were placed with exacting care.
The hum of movement grounded Bryson further as a string duo arrived, instruments cradled in sleek black cases, already murmuring to one another as they tuned.
Then came another delivery.
One Bryson had ordered earlier that week—but even he paused when he saw it.
Cherry blossoms.
Imported from Japan.
Delicate, fragrant, impossibly beautiful. Soft pink petals drifted in the air as decorators lifted the branches free, arranging them in elegant sprays—woven along the trellis, cascading through centerpieces, and clustered at the base of the custom-built archway where Bryson would drop to one knee.
Claire approached slowly as one of the assistants unboxed another tree-like bundle.
“Wait a minute…” she blinked. “Are these cherry blossoms? From Japan?”
Bryson smirked. “Overnighted. Direct from Kyoto.”
Claire nearly dropped her clipboard. “How the hell did you pull that off in time?”
Armando and Roderick strolled up—one dragging a step ladder, the other balancing a box of string lights.
Bryson didn’t miss a beat. “Juice, baby,” he said calmly. “You gotta have it.”
The guys burst out laughing.
Roderick pointed at Claire. “She didn’t believe us when we told her at the spa.”
Claire shook her head, eyes wide. “I thought you were joking.”
Armando grinned as he climbed the ladder. “You know our boy doesn’t play when it comes to Amelia.”
Bryson looked out over the space as it transformed—warm lights beginning to glow, blossoms framing the air like a dream someone dared to build in real life.
“She’s not just getting a proposal,” he said quietly. “She’s getting a moment she’ll never forget.”
Claire pressed a hand to her chest, her voice softening. “You’re going to break the entire internet.”
Bryson slid his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the velvet ring box.
“Not the goal,” he said evenly. “Just her.”