Chapter 272

Chapter 272
Lucas

"I remember everything you tell me," I said, cupping her face in my hands. "Every single thing."

Her expression softened into something so tender it made my chest ache. "How did I get so lucky?"

"I'm the lucky one," I said, and I meant it with every fiber of my being. "Trust me."

We swayed together in the center of those nine hundred and ninety-nine roses, the sunset fading to twilight, the candles beginning to flicker to life around us. The quartet was playing something soft and romantic, and Tara's head was on my shoulder, her hand—the one with my ring on it—pressed against my heart.

"Was this all your idea?" she murmured. "The roses, the music, the sunset?"

"I had help," I admitted. "Emma and Noah. I was a complete mess when I went to them for advice. Emma designed the whole aesthetic setup, and Noah arranged the logistics. I mostly just panicked and practiced my speech about fifty times."

Tara laughed, the vibration traveling through both of us. "It was a beautiful speech. Made me cry like a baby."

"Good crying though?" I checked anxiously. "Not 'oh God what is he doing' crying?"

"The best crying," she assured me, tilting her head up to kiss me again. "The 'I can't believe this is real' kind."

"It's real," I promised, resting my forehead against hers. "Very, very real. You're stuck with me now."

"Good," she said fiercely. "Because I'm not letting you go."

Footsteps in the sand announced Noah and Emma's approach, with little Mike running ahead excitedly.

"Uncle Lucas got you flowers!" Mike announced at top volume, clearly thrilled to share this discovery. "Lots and lots of flowers!"

Tara crouched down to his level, showing him the ring with a conspiratorial smile. "He did! And he gave me this too. What do you think?"

Mike peered at it seriously, his little face scrunched in concentration. "It's blue like the ocean!"

"Exactly!" Tara beamed at him. "You're very observant, Mike."

"So you're getting married now?" Mike asked with the blunt curiosity of a toddler. "Like Papa and Mama?"

"Yes," Tara said, her eyes finding mine. "Exactly like that."

Emma pulled me into a tight hug while Noah shook my hand and then, in an uncharacteristically emotional gesture, pulled me in for a brief embrace.

"Congratulations, mate," Noah said quietly. "Welcome to the club."

"The 'married to an incredible woman way out of my league' club?" I asked.

"That's the one," he agreed with a slight smile.

Emma was hugging Tara now, both of them crying and laughing, and I felt my throat tighten watching them. This was family. This complicated, beautiful, chosen family that had formed around us despite everything—despite danger and threats and all the darkness we'd faced together.

"Thank you," I said to Noah and Emma once the women had released each other. "For all of this. For helping me pull this off. For being here."

"Are you kidding?" Emma said, wiping her eyes. "This is exactly what we needed. Something beautiful and happy and full of hope." She glanced at Noah, and something silent passed between them. "We all needed this."

As darkness fully settled over the beach, Noah's team began the careful work of packing up. Tara watched them collect roses with dismay.

"Oh no, all these beautiful flowers—what happens to them?"

"Donated to local hospitals and nursing homes," Noah told her. "Emma's idea."

Tara's expression melted into something so tender that I had to resist the urge to kiss her again right there in front of everyone. "That's perfect," she whispered.

We stayed on the beach until the last candle was extinguished, talking and laughing, Mike eventually falling asleep against Noah's shoulder. Tara couldn't stop looking at her ring, holding it up to catch the moonlight, and I couldn't stop looking at her.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked at one point, catching me staring.

"That I can't believe you said yes," I admitted.

"Lucas." She turned to face me fully, taking both my hands in hers. "I would have said yes if you'd asked me in a parking lot with a ring from a vending machine. All of this—" she gestured at the beach, the remnants of roses, the beauty Noah and Emma had helped create, "—it's gorgeous and romantic and I'll treasure it forever. But what made me cry, what made me say yes, was you. The man who remembers throwaway comments about ocean colors and learns about sustainable architecture just to understand what I'm passionate about. The man who actually listens when I talk about green spaces and passive solar design. The man who sees me."

My eyes were burning again. "I see you," I said hoarsely. "All of you. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know how extraordinary I think you are."

"We're going to be so happy," she said, and it wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact, delivered with all the confidence of someone who designed buildings meant to stand for generations.

"Yeah," I agreed, pulling her close. "We really are."

Later, driving back through Malibu with Tara's hand in mine, her engagement ring catching the dashboard lights, I thought about how terrified I'd been just hours ago. How convinced I was that I'd mess it up, say the wrong thing, somehow not be enough.

But love wasn't about being perfect or having all the answers. It was about showing up, being honest, taking the leap even when you were terrified. It was about finding someone who made you want to be braver, better, more yourself than you'd ever been before.

"I love you," I said into the comfortable silence.

Tara squeezed my hand, her smile visible even in profile. "I love you too. My fiancé."

Fiancé. The word sent a thrill through me every time.

"We should probably start planning," Tara said thoughtfully. "The wedding, I mean. Unless you want a long engagement?"

"However long you want," I said. "Though fair warning—I might turn into one of those obnoxious grooms who has opinions about flower arrangements and chair covers."

She laughed, that gorgeous sound that had first caught my attention six months ago. "I would expect nothing less from the man who just coordinated nine hundred and ninety-nine roses."

"Actually, that was—"

"I know Emma helped," Tara interrupted, still smiling. "But you chose the number. Why nine hundred and ninety-nine?"

I felt my face heat slightly. "Because... a thousand felt too perfect. Too symmetrical. I wanted something that felt real, you know? Like us. Not perfect, but perfect for each other."

Tara was quiet for a long moment, and when I glanced over, there were tears on her cheeks again.

"Tara? Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she managed, laughing through her tears. "You said something exactly right. God, how are you real?"

"I ask myself that about you every day," I admitted.

We drove through the night, talking about everything and nothing—venue ideas, whether to have a spring or fall wedding, how many people we wanted to invite, what kind of cake she liked. Normal, everyday planning things that felt monumental because we were planning our future.

When I finally pulled up to her apartment building, I didn't want to let her go.

"Come up?" she asked softly. "I'm too wired to sleep, and I want to—" she paused, a blush coloring her cheeks. "I want to celebrate. Properly."

I was out of the car before she finished the sentence.

Upstairs, in her apartment surrounded by plants and architectural models and the beautiful chaos that was Tara's creative space, she turned to me with shining eyes.

"This is real, right? I didn't dream the whole thing?"

I pulled her close, feeling her heart beat against mine. "It's real. You're wearing my ring. You said yes. We're getting married."

"We're getting married," she repeated, wonder in her voice. Then she was kissing me, and I was lifting her up, and we were laughing and stumbling toward her bedroom, leaving a trail of shoes and inhibitions behind us.

Later, much later, lying tangled together in her sheets with moonlight streaming through the windows, Tara traced patterns on my chest.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?"

"For the perfect proposal. For seeing me. For loving me." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me with such tenderness it made my breath catch. "For being brave enough to ask."

"Always," I promised, cupping her face in my hand. "I'll always be brave enough for you."

She smiled, that brilliant smile that had become my favorite sight in the world, and kissed me again. And as I held my fiancée—my fiancée—in my arms, I thought about how scared I'd been earlier. How convinced I was that I'd mess it up.

But this—Tara's warmth beside me, her ring catching the moonlight, her whispered "I love you" against my skin—this was worth every second of fear. This was worth everything.

And tomorrow, we'd start planning our forever.

But tonight was just for us.

The end.