Chapter 310

Chaoter 306

The surprise dinner was not simply a dinner.

It was an entire evening built around Emilia.

The food was laid out in a way that made her stop in front of the dining table and stare.

There was a cake decorated in ivory and deep purple, with delicate gold details winding around the tiers.

At the top, in elegant lettering, were the words:

CONGRATULATIONS, DR. EMILIA HAYES.

Below that, in smaller writing: THE WORLD IS BETTER WITH YOUR MIND IN IT.

Emilia stared at the cake. Then she turned towards Kylie. “You wrote that.”

Kylie looked offended. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because I know you.”

Kylie held her gaze for three seconds. Then she smiled. “I did.”

Emilia’s eyes filled again.

…….

Christian had been watching Kylie for the better part of twenty minutes.

Six years together, and the man still looked at her as though somebody had made a mistake when they gave him permission to love her.

She was standing near the dining table, talking animatedly to one of their guests, her hands moving as she told a story that had apparently become funnier with every retelling.

Her blue eyes were bright, her blonde hair fell over one shoulder, and her laughter carried across the room without the slightest concern for who might hear it.

Six years of falling in love with her in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Seven years ago, he met her.

And three years ago, he had watched her become a criminal lawyer. Not just a lawyer. An exceptional one.

He remembered the first time she had told him about a case she was working on, her excitement so infectious that she had barely allowed him to finish asking questions. She had stood in their kitchen with a glass of water in one hand and a legal document in the other, explaining the weaknesses in the opposing counsel’s argument as if she were personally offended by the existence of a poorly constructed case.

He had listened. Then he had asked her three questions. She had answered the first two. The third had made her stop.

She had stared at him for several seconds before grabbing her laptop and disappearing into her study.

Two hours later, she had returned, climbed into his lap, and kissed him so enthusiastically that he had nearly knocked over his tea.

“You were right,” she had told him.

He had smiled.

She had immediately climbed off his lap. “That was your opportunity to be humble, Christian.”

Later that night, he had found her asleep on the sofa with the document resting on her chest, and he had carried her to bed.

And there she was, three years into her career, building a reputation that belonged entirely to her.

She had won difficult cases.

She had earned the respect of colleagues who had initially mistaken her confidence for arrogance.

And she had never failed to keep wearing pretty dresses to parties.

He had sat awake with her when a case troubled her long after she had left the courtroom.

He had celebrated every victory.bHe had held her when a loss hurt more than she wanted to admit.

And he had watched her build a life that was entirely hers. A life he was deeply grateful to have a place in.

“Christian.”

He blinked.

Kylie was standing in front of him.

One hand rested on her hip.

Her eyebrows were raised.

He smiled. “Hello, Blue.”

“Don’t ‘hello, Blue’ me.”

“All right.”

“Why are you staring at me?”

He looked at her for a moment. Then he smiled again. His lips curled into a teasing grin. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Her expression changed. “That is suspicious.” She leaned closer. “What have you done?”

“Nothing.”

“Christian.”

“Kylie.”

She stared at him.

He stared back.

She pointed at his face. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you look innocent when you’re absolutely not innocent.”

He grinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She shook her head, smiling. Then somebody called her name from across the room.

Kylie turned immediately. “Coming!” She looked back at Christian. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Very controlling of you, Blue.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

Then she hurried away.

Christian watched her go.

His smile softened. He had made up his mind weeks ago. The ring had been in his possession for eleven days.

Eleven days of hiding it in a place Kylie wouldn’t think to look. Eleven days of checking the box before leaving the house.

Eleven days of imagining the moment he would ask her to marry him.

He had planned a speech.

He had written it down.

Then rewritten it.

Then abandoned it because every version sounded like something a man would say when he wanted to impress a woman rather than tell her the truth.

And the truth was simple.

He wanted Kylie. And he wanted to build a home with her.

Not a home in the abstract.

Not some impressive house with expensive furniture and a family portrait hanging above a fireplace.

He wanted the ordinary things.

He wanted to wake up beside her. He wanted to argue about what to eat for dinner.

He wanted to listen to her complain about a colleague and then remind her that she had once said she would never let another person’s opinion determine her worth.

He wanted to watch her come home from court, kick off her shoes, and tell him every detail of her day while he pretended not to notice that she had stolen his shirt.

He wanted to be the person she reached for without thinking.

The person she could trust to remain beside her without needing to control where she went.

And if she wanted children someday, he wanted to build that life with her, too.

But that was a conversation for another time.

Tonight, he wanted to ask her to marry him.

And he wanted her to know that his answer to whatever she chose would never change how much he loved her.

He looked across the room again.

Kylie was laughing.

Her head was tipped back, one hand resting on her friend’s arm as she finished telling her story.

Christian smiled.

He loved her so much that sometimes it felt ridiculous.

Six years of being together, and he still found himself looking at her when he should have been listening to someone else.

Six years, and he still wanted to tell her every little thing that happened to him. Six years, and the best part of his day was still coming home and finding her there.

He reached into his pocket. His fingers brushed the small velvet box.

Then he took a breath.

It was time.

Endgame???