Chapter 31: Where She Says It First

It wasn't planned.

It didn't happen over candlelight or a rooftop skyline or some carefully choreographed moment.

It happened in the middle of the day.

In the middle of the mess.

And it was perfect.

They were back in the city. Back to noise and meetings and inboxes that multiplied like bacteria. But Eliza didn't feel the same within it.

She felt steadier.

Like something inside her had finally stopped bracing for a fall that would never come.

It was a Tuesday.

Rain-slicked sidewalks. Double-booked calendars. A malfunctioning espresso machine that nearly broke Will's spirit.

They were cooking dinner together — or trying to.

Eliza was reading from a recipe on her tablet while Will wrestled with a stubborn jar lid.

"Lefty loosey, Bennett," she called from across the kitchen.

He scowled. "Don't start with me. This jar is possessed."

"Try using your actual arms instead of stubbornness."

He growled, twisting harder.

The jar flew from his hand, hit the floor, and exploded.

"Damn it!"

She stared at the shattered glass, tomato sauce spreading across the tile like a crime scene.

Then she laughed.

He looked up, startled. "Are you laughing at my suffering?"

She nodded, breathless. "Wholeheartedly."

He gave her a look, hands on his hips, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and something like affection.

"Marry me, Darcy. So you can mock me for the rest of my days."

She froze.

The words weren't serious. He hadn't even meant them.

But suddenly, the air changed.

Something inside her shifted.

Slowly, Eliza stepped forward, bare feet careful between the splatter, until they were nose to nose.

He opened his mouth, maybe to walk it back.

But she beat him to it.

Soft. Certain.

"Yes."

His eyes searched hers. "Eliza…"

She nodded again. "Yes," she said, voice firmer this time. "To you. To us. Not someday. Not maybe."

Will's throat worked, but no words came out.

So she reached into the collar of her blouse, pulled out the chain, and unclasped it.

The ring slid off into her palm.

She looked down at it, then back up at him.

"I want this on my hand, Will," she whispered. "Not around my neck. I want it where everyone can see what I already know."

He didn't move.

He just stared at her like she'd remade the whole damn world with one breath.

Then he took the ring, slowly, reverently.

Slipped it onto her finger like he'd dreamed of doing a hundred times but never dared rush.

It fit perfectly.

Of course it did.

She looked at it for a long moment.

Then at him.

"No boardroom," she murmured. "No audience. Just a broken jar and a moment I didn't see coming."

He cupped her face in both hands.

And kissed her like every answer he'd ever needed had just walked up and said yes.

Later That Night

They lay tangled in the sheets, her hand resting on his chest, the ring catching moonlight.

"I wanted to surprise you," he murmured. "I had a whole plan."

"You did surprise me," she said softly. "By making me realize I didn't need to wait anymore."

He turned toward her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "So what now, Eliza Darcy?"

She smiled. "Now we build the kind of empire that isn't made of steel and numbers."

He kissed her bare shoulder. "What's it made of?"

She looked down at their hands, fingers entwined.

"Us," she said.