Chapter 270

Chapter 270
Emma

Three weeks had passed since Marcus's frantic call about Chronos's escape. Three weeks of heightened security, late-night strategy sessions with Noah and the FBI, and an underlying tension that made every unexpected sound set my heart racing. But today—finally—we had a moment to breathe. The immediate threat had been contained, though the investigation continued in the background.

Noah had insisted we take a break from crisis mode, claiming that stress wasn't good for the baby. I'd rolled my eyes at his overprotectiveness but secretly loved every second of it. Now, sitting in our home office with Mike playing contentedly with his building blocks nearby, I was grateful for this pocket of normalcy.

The doorbell rang, and I glanced at Noah, who was reviewing acquisition documents. "Expecting someone?"

He shook his head, already standing. Parker's voice crackled through the intercom. "Mr. York, Lucas Simmons is here to see you and Mrs. York. He says it's... urgent but personal."

Noah and I exchanged puzzled looks. Lucas and "urgent" didn't usually go together unless it involved a market crash or a misplaced billion.

"Send him up," Noah said, amusement flickering across his face.

When Lucas walked through the door, I had to suppress a laugh. The usually composed financial analyst looked like he'd been through a wind tunnel—his hair disheveled, tie loosened, eyes slightly wild. This was not the Lucas Simmons who confidently commanded boardrooms.

"I need help," he blurted out before either of us could greet him. "I'm going to propose to Tara, and I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Tara?" I asked, setting down my tea.

"I love her, Emma. I want to marry her, but every time I try to plan something, it feels... inadequate. She deserves perfect, and I'm completely out of my depth here."

I couldn't help smiling at his adorable panic. This was so different from the confident Lucas I'd known since middle school. Love had clearly scrambled his usual precision.

"Sit down before you wear a hole in our carpet," Noah said dryly, but his eyes were kind. He gestured to the leather couch. "Start from the beginning. What kind of proposal are you thinking?"

Lucas collapsed onto the sofa, looking grateful. "That's the problem—I don't know! Should it be public? Private? Grand gesture? Intimate moment?" He pulled out his phone, showing us what appeared to be seventeen different Pinterest boards. "I've been researching for weeks, and I'm more confused than when I started."

Mike toddled over, patting Lucas's knee with a sticky hand. "Uncle Lucas sad?"

"Not sad, buddy," Lucas said, managing a small smile. "Just nervous."

"Papa gets nervous around Mama too," Mike declared with the brutal honesty of a toddler. "His face gets all red."

Noah coughed, and I bit back a laugh as he shot our son a look that said we'll talk about discretion later.

"See, even a two-year-old notices I'm a mess," Lucas groaned. "How did you two make it look so easy?"

"Easy?" I nearly choked. "Lucas, our relationship was anything but—"

"What Emma means," Noah interrupted smoothly, squeezing my hand, "is that every couple is different. What matters is what feels right for you and Tara. What does she like? What makes her happy?"

Lucas's expression softened immediately. "She loves the ocean. Says the sound of waves calms her. She's passionate about sustainable architecture and plants. She always has dirt under her fingernails from her rooftop garden, and she thinks it's the most romantic thing when I notice the small things she does."

"There's your answer," Noah said simply. "Ocean. Personal touches. Something that shows you pay attention."

"Malibu Beach," I suggested, ideas already forming. "Noah owns a private section near his beach house. You could set up at sunset—it's private but beautiful. We could arrange for a heart shape made of roses along the shoreline."

Lucas's eyes lit up. "That's—yes, that could work. But would it be too much? Tara doesn't like ostentatious displays."

"Then keep it elegant," Noah said, already pulling out his phone. "Simple roses, candles, maybe some of those paper lanterns she likes. I'll arrange for my event team to set it up. They're discreet and professional."

"You'd do that?" Lucas looked between us, clearly overwhelmed.

"Of course," I said warmly. "You're family, Lucas. Plus, I've been dying for a project that doesn't involve federal investigations or international crime syndicates."

That got a genuine laugh from him, and some of the tension left his shoulders.

"I have a ring," Lucas said, pulling out a small velvet box. Inside was a stunning sapphire surrounded by small diamonds—unusual, personal, perfect. "It's lab-created sapphire. Tara's passionate about ethical sourcing, and blue is her favorite color."

"She's going to love it," I said, genuinely touched by how much thought he'd put into this. "Now, let's talk logistics. When are you thinking?"

"This Saturday? Is that crazy? Too soon?"

"Saturday's perfect," Noah confirmed. "Gives us four days to arrange everything. Emma can handle the aesthetic details—she's got better taste than both of us combined. I'll coordinate the technical setup and security."

"Security?" Lucas blinked.

"Private beach, expensive ring, sunset crowds," Noah listed off. "Better safe than sorry."

Over the next hour, we hammered out details. I suggested Tara's favorite champagne—Veuve Clicquot Rosé, which Lucas had mentioned she loved—and some delicate French macarons from her favorite bakery. Noah arranged for a private string quartet to play her favorite songs. Lucas practiced his proposal speech so many times that even Mike started mouthing along.

"You're going to be amazing," I assured Lucas as he prepared to leave, pulling him into a hug. "Tara's lucky to have someone who cares this much."

"I'm the lucky one," Lucas said quietly. "Thanks for this. Both of you. I know things have been intense lately with everything going on. I didn't want to add to your stress."

"This is exactly what we needed," Noah said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Something happy to focus on."

After Lucas left, Noah pulled me close, his hand settling on my still-flat stomach where our second child was growing. "That's going to be us again someday," he murmured. "Teaching our kids about love and proposals and all of it."

"We're already teaching Mike," I pointed out, smiling as our son crashed his toy cars together in an elaborate disaster scene. "Though I'm not sure that lesson took."

"He'll get there," Noah said, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We all figure it out eventually."

---

Saturday arrived with perfect weather—clear skies, gentle breeze, the promise of a spectacular sunset. Noah's team had transformed a section of Malibu Beach into something from a fairytale. Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses formed a perfect heart along the shoreline, with a pathway of candles leading to the center where Lucas would propose. Paper lanterns hung from carefully placed driftwood structures, and the string quartet was set up on a natural rock formation nearby.

"This is gorgeous," I whispered to Noah as we surveyed the setup from a distance. We were positioned on a small bluff overlooking the scene, close enough to watch but far enough to give them privacy. Mike was between us, munching on crackers and totally fascinated by the "pretty lights."

"Your design," Noah said, pulling me against his side. "I just made it happen."

"Mama, why so many flowers?" Mike asked, pointing at the rose heart.

"Because Uncle Lucas loves Miss Tara very much," I explained, smoothing down his windblown hair. "When you love someone that much, you want to show them with beautiful things."

"Like how Papa gives you strawberries?" Mike asked innocently.

Noah choked on his water, and I elbowed him gently. Our son's observation skills were becoming alarmingly sharp.

Below, Lucas appeared on the beach, and my heart squeezed. He looked perfect in a simple white shirt and dark slacks, the sunset painting everything in shades of gold and rose. His nervousness was evident even from this distance—the way he kept checking his pocket where the ring box was hidden, the slight tremor in his hands as he adjusted his collar.

Then Tara appeared, guided by one of Noah's assistants under the pretense of a "surprise sunset beach dinner." She was beautiful in a flowing blue sundress, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. The moment she saw the rose heart, her hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide with wonder.