Dreamscape Through Vanity | San Juanico Series #3

CHAPTER 4: Proposal

8 PM. Private Diner at Viola's

The room smells like roasted garlic and old wood. It's small, just one table behind a curtain that the staff pulled closed the second Pat walked in with Val. No other diners. No noise except the low hum of the fridge and Ed Sheeran's album playing barely loud enough to notice.

The staff said it's a five-course meal. "Dedicated only for the lovely couple tonight," the manager told them when they sat down, smiling like she's been in on this for weeks.

Val's in a black dress again. Different one than the club night. This one fits right. Pat's in a button-up he ironed for the first time in a year, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair still a little damp from the shower he rushed through.

The first course arrives looking like it cost more than Pat's first bike.

"Our amuse-bouche," the server says, placing it down with both hands. "Pan-seared scallops with citrus reduction. It's meant to open the palate, the same way you two opened each other's lives three years ago."

Val blinks then glared. He actually tell them that part.

The server moves on to the second course before either of them can speak. "Beef carpaccio with shaved parmesan and arugula. Light, delicate. Like the first few months. Tentative. Promising."

Val looks at Pat. He's staring at the plate, not her. His hand's resting on the table, close enough that their fingers could brush if he moved half an inch. He doesn't.

By the third course-roasted lamb with rosemary jus-the staff's rhythm is smooth. They know the story. Or Pat told them the story. Val's not sure which is stranger.

"This is our main," the server says, setting the plate down. "Rich, steady. Built to last." She pauses. "Much like your partnership."

Pat finally looks up. "You guys rehearsed this, didn't you?"

The server grins. "Just a little."

Val laughs, and it's real. The tension in her shoulders drops. The lamb is perfect. So is the wine. Pat keeps refilling her glass before it's half empty, and she lets him.

Between bites, they talk. Not about anything big. Pat tells her about the '72 Honda he finally got running today. Val tells him about a client who tried to argue that "logistics" means "making sure the flowers don't die on the way." They trade stories, finish each other's sentences, laugh at things only they'd find funny.

It feels normal. It feels like Tuesday. Except the lighting is softer. Except there's no dishes in the sink. Except the staff keeps refilling their wine without being asked.

Dessert comes out. A small vanilla tart, gold leaf on top, raspberry coulis drizzled in a perfect circle around it.

"This is our final course," the server says, and there's a different tone now. Softer. "We call it The Promise." She sets it down, then steps back.

The lights dim. Just a little.

Another staff member walks out from the kitchen, holding a small silver tray. On it, a tiny dessert plate with a single vanilla-covered strawberry. And a ring box.

Val's breath catches.

The first staff member smiles. "Happiest on your third anniversary," she says. "Best wishes to you both. From all of us at Viola's."

He's already standing. Just like he planned. The perfect moment. His chair scrapes against the floor, loud in the sudden quiet.

Pat doesn't kneel right away. He looks at Val first. Really looks. Three years of nights where she fell asleep on his chest. Three years of her hair tie on his wrist. Three years and a lifetime ready only for her.

He clears his throat. It comes out rough.

"I'm not good at speeches," he says. "I'm the guy who fixes engines because they don't talk back. The guy who goes quiet when things get big."

Val's already crying. She's got her hand over her mouth like she's trying to hold it in, but it's not working. Tears are slipping down anyway, and she's not even embarrassed about it.

The staff has backed away. It's just them now. The music. The candle on the table flickering between them.

Pat takes a breath. "But I need to say this. I need you to hear it, right now, before I ask you anything."

Pat sinks to one knee. The wood creaks under him. He opens the box. The thin silver band catches the light, matte and quiet, with that tiny notch only she'll ever notice.

"I love everything you do, Val," he says. "From the big things to the small things." He smiled.

"I love your curves," he says, and Val blinks, startled. "Yeah. I do. The way your hip fits against mine when you fall asleep. The way your collarbone catches the light when you lean over the sink. But I love the imperfections more."

"The scar on your knee from when you fell off that bike when you were twelve. The way your left eye crinkles more than your right when you laugh. The way you forget to text me when you're overwhelmed and then panic for ten minutes when you remember. I love it. All of it. Because it's you."

Val shakes her head, laughing through the tears. "Pat-"

"No, let me finish." His voice is stronger now. "I love it when you smile in the morning. Not the big, big grin you give Carmel. The small one. The one you don't even realize you're doing, when the coffee's good and the sun's hitting the floor and you're half-asleep but you're here. That smile. That's the one I wake up for. Every. Single. Time."

The music shifts. Thinking Out Loud swells, Ed Sheeran's voice filling the small room like it was meant for this moment.

"I love it when you see a flower," he goes on. "You don't just see it. You see it. The way the stem bends, the way the petal's edge is a little frayed, the way the color isn't perfect but it's real. You light up. Your whole face. It's like you bloom with it." His lips quirk. "Mia says you talk to the flowers. I believe her. And I love that about you. That you notice what most people walk past."

She reaches out, doesn't touch him, just hovers, like she's afraid if she does she'll break the moment.

When your legs don't work like they used to before

And I can't sweep you off of your feet~

"And you notice me, too," Pat says, quieter now. "You notice all the mistakes. You notice when I don't say thank you after you bring me food. You notice when I stay late at the shop and don't tell you why. You notice when I'm quiet and it's not peaceful, it's me shutting down. You call me out on it. Every time."

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks~

He exhales. "And you should. Because I mess up. I always have. I'm bad at this. I'm bad at words. I'm bad at being enough. I've been bad at a lot of things in the last three years."

Val finally reaches for him. Her fingers brush his wrist. He covers her hand with his.

"But one thing I've never been mistaken about," Pat says, and his eyes don't leave hers, "is choosing you. Every day."

The words hang there.

And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70

And baby my heart could still fall as hard at 23~

"Over the big fights," he says. "The ones where we didn't talk for two days because I was too stubborn to apologize first. Over the hindrances. The rent hike, the shop almost closing, the nights I came home smelling like metal and failure and you still made me tea. Over the mismatches." He smiles, a little crooked.

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways

Maybe just the touch of a hand~

"I choose you over all of it. Every time. I chose you that night at Eclipse when you decided to go home with me instead of walking away. I chose you because I know nothing matters without you. I choose you now, with a ring I should've bought months ago but was too scared to."

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day

And I just wanna tell you I am~

He paused for a moment, wiping away the tears that wasn't part of the plan. Then deliver the most of it. "Valentina," he says, and her name sounds different. Final. "I don't believe in forever. I think forever's too big. Too final."

Val's hand is trembling now. She grips the edge of the table.

So honey now

Take me into your loving arms~

"I believe in longer than forever," Pat says. "I believe in every day after. I believe in you, still choosing me, even when I'm quiet. Even when I'm bad at this. Even when I'm just... me."

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars

Place your head on my beating heart~

"Marry me," he says. No embellishment. No grand line. Just the truth. "Marry me because it's us. Because even when I'm wrong, I'm still yours. And you're still mine."

I'm thinking out loud

Maybe we found love right where we are~

Val can't breathe.

It's the same lovingly man who's been and will be her home for the next years.

Her vision blurs. She tries to nod, but her head won't move right. Her throat is tight. She wants to say yes. God, she wants to say yes. But the word won't come.

"Yes," she whispers. Then louder, through the tears "Yes. Yes, Perseus, I'll marry you."

Pat exhales like he's been holding his breath for a decade. He slides the ring onto her finger. It fits. Of course it does.

Val throws herself at him, arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. "You i***t," she pulls back just enough to look at him. Her makeup is ruined. She doesn't care. "You planned all this and you're still shaking."

"So are you," Pat says, holding her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head.

"I love you," he murmurs into herhair. "I love you. I love you."

The staff claps softly from the kitchen doorway. Val doesn't even notice. She's too busy staring at the ring on her finger, at Pat's face, at the way he's looking at her like she's the only thing in the room.

Val kisses him. Soft at first. Then harder. Like she's trying to promise everything back.

"I love you so much more."