Chapter 14: The Real Proposal
1042 Words
"So," Damien said the next morning. "About yesterday."
I was eating cereal. Again. "What about it?"
"The proposal," he said, like it was obvious. "The real one."
I almost choked on my Cheerios.
"You were serious?"
"Ava," he said, setting his coffee down. "I’ve never been more serious."
He got up. Walked to me. Knelt on the kitchen floor.
In sweats. Barefoot. No ring.
But his eyes. God, his eyes.
"I don’t have a ring," he said. "I don’t have a speech. I have you. And Cole.
And 6 months of pretending that turned into not pretending anymore."
He took my hand.
"Ava Cole. Will you marry me? For real this time. Not because of Vegas.
Not because of the board. Because I want to wake up to you every day for the rest of my life."
Silence.
"Yes," I whispered. "A thousand times yes."
He smiled. That real one.
Then he kissed me. Right there on the kitchen floor.
---
By noon, Selena had 3 wedding planners on video call.
"We need this private," Damien said. "No press. No board. Just us."
"Mr. Cole," the first planner said. "With all due respect, you’re Damien Cole. Nothing is private."
"Then make it private," he said. "Or I find someone who can."
I kicked him under the table.
"What?" he whispered.
"Be nice," I whispered back.
He sighed. "Please," he added. "For my fiancée."
The planners melted.
---
We spent the afternoon in my studio.
Not painting. Planning.
"Church or courthouse?" Damien asked.
"Church," I said immediately. "My mom would have wanted that."
His face softened.
"Church it is."
"Dress?"
"Simple," I said. "I don’t need diamonds. I need you."
"Too bad," he grinned. "You’re getting diamonds anyway."
He pulled out his phone.
"Jewelers. Come to the penthouse. Today."
Within an hour, 4 jewelers were in our living room.
With trays of rings.
I stared at them. Overwhelmed.
"I don’t know," I said. "They’re all so—"
"Too much?" Damien finished. "Yeah."
He pushed all the trays away.
"Do you have anything simple?" he asked. "Platinum. No giant rock. Something she can wear every day."
One jeweler pulled out a thin band.
One diamond. Small.
"This," Damien said immediately. "This one."
He took my hand. Slid it on.
Perfect fit.
"How much?"
"$80,000," the jeweler said.
"I’ll take it," Damien said.
"Damien!" I gasped. "That’s—"
"Less than I spent on coffee last month," he said. "Let me do this."
He kissed my hand.
"Now you’re really mine."
---
That night, we told Cole.
Damien laid on the floor of the studio. Head on my lap.
"Hey buddy," he said to my stomach. "Mom said yes. We’re getting married."
I laughed. "He’s 13 weeks. He can’t understand you."
"He understands," Damien said. "Don’t you, Cole?"
He kissed my stomach.
"We’re going to be a family. For real."
I ran my fingers through his hair.
"Are you scared?" I asked.
"Of marriage?" he asked. "No. Of messing it up? Yes."
"You won’t," I said. "Because you care."
He sat up. Pulled me into his arms.
"I do care," he said. "More than the company. More than winning. More than anything."
We kissed. Slow.
No desperation. No fear.
Just us.
---
The next 2 weeks were chaos.
Wedding dress fittings.
Venue tours.
Security meetings.
Vivienne tried to crash everything.
Lawyers. Threats. Leaks.
But we ignored her.
We had a rule: No Vivienne talk after 6PM.
So at 6PM, we’d cook. Badly.
Or paint.
Or watch bad movies.
On Thursday, Damien surprised me.
"Close your eyes," he said.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
I did.
He led me somewhere. I heard a door open.
"Open."
It was my studio.
But different.
Fairy lights.
Photos on the wall.
Me painting. Me sleeping. Me laughing.
All taken by Damien.
And in the middle: An easel.
With a painting.
Of us.
At the window. 53 floors up.
His arms around me. Hand on my stomach.
"You painted this?" I whispered.
"I tried," he said, embarrassed. "It’s bad."
"It’s perfect," I said, crying. "Because it’s us."
He wiped my tears.
"I want more of these," he said. "Years of these."
---
3 days before the wedding, disaster.
Selena burst in. "Mrs. Hart filed an injunction. She’s claiming the marriage is fraud."
"What?" I said.
"She says you married for money. For the company," Selena explained. "She wants the wedding stopped."
Damien went still.
"Okay," he said calmly. "Then we do it tonight."
"What?"
"Town hall," he said. "Judge. Witnesses. Right now."
"Damien, I wanted a church—"
"We’ll have the church later," he said. "For everyone. For photos.
But legally? I need you to be my wife tonight. Before she can stop us."
I looked at him.
"Are you sure?"
"The only thing I’m sure of is you," he said.
---
2 hours later, we were in a town hall.
Jeans. T-shirt. My ring.
Damien in a suit. No tie.
Selena and 2 lawyers as witnesses.
The judge looked at us. "Do you take this man—"
"I do," I said before she finished.
"Do you take this woman—"
"I do," Damien said.
"By the power vested in me—"
"Kiss the bride," Selena whispered.
Damien did.
Right there.
In front of a judge and 2 lawyers.
When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead on mine.
"Mrs. Cole," he whispered.
"Mr. Cole," I whispered back.
We signed the papers.
Legal. Binding. Real.
---
Back in the penthouse, it was quiet.
No party. No press.
Just us.
Damien poured champagne.
"To us," he said.
"To us," I echoed.
We clinked glasses.
Then he set his down.
Picked me up. Bridal style.
"Where are we going?" I laughed.
"To bed, wife," he said. "Our wedding night."
He laid me down gently.
Climbed in beside me.
No rush. No board. No Vivienne.
Just his arms around me.
His hand on my stomach.
His lips on my temple.
"Thank you," he whispered. "For saying yes."
"Thank you," I whispered back. "For choosing me."
I fell asleep as his wife.
For real this time.
And for the first time since Vegas,
I wasn’t scared of tomorrow.
Because tomorrow, we had each other.
And Cole.
And that was enough.
- Writer
