Chapter 14 - THE PROPOSAL WITHOUT A PRICE
Roman proposed to me on a Tuesday.
Not at a gala.
Not in front of reporters.
Not in a restaurant where people would turn around to watch.
He proposed in the bakery, at six seventeen in the morning, while I was covered in flour and threatening to replace the espresso machine with a handwritten apology to every customer who had ever used it.
Naturally, I nearly ruined the moment.
It began when I found Roman standing behind the counter holding a tray of cinnamon rolls.
He wore a navy sweater.
His sleeves were pushed to his elbows.
A thin dusting of flour covered his hair.
I stared at him.
“Roman.”
He looked up.
“Morning.”
“Why are you in my kitchen?”
“June let me in.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“That's concerning.”
He smiled.
“I was helping.”
I examined the cinnamon rolls.
They were misshapen.
One was enormous.
Another looked like it had lost an argument with the baking sheet.
I picked one up.
“Did you make these?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“By yourself?”
“June supervised.”
“Of course she did.”
He laughed.
Then looked unexpectedly nervous.
I noticed immediately.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Roman.”
He exhaled.
“Fine. Something.”
I folded my arms.
“Is it the investigation?”
“No.”
“Damian?”
“No.”
“Your company's restructuring?”
“Harper.”
I stopped.
He looked at me.
And suddenly my heart began racing.
Roman placed the tray on the counter.
Then reached into his pocket.
I stared.
“Roman.”
He smiled nervously.
“Before you panic—”
“Too late.”
He laughed.
Then opened a small velvet box.
Inside was a gold ring with an emerald-cut diamond.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Simple enough that I could imagine wearing it while kneading bread.
I covered my mouth.
Roman took a breath.
“I've been trying to find the right moment.”
My eyes filled.
“And apparently the right moment involves a broken espresso machine.”
He smiled.
“I considered a luxury restaurant.”
“Terrible idea.”
“An expensive rooftop.”
“Too windy.”
“A yacht.”
“I get seasick.”
He laughed.
“Exactly.”
Then he grew serious.
“Harper, when I first saw you, you were walking away from a man who thought humiliating you in public was a form of honesty.”
My throat tightened.
“I remember.”
“You didn't know me. I didn't know you.”
His voice softened.
“But I knew something about that moment.”
“What?”
“You chose to leave rather than accept a life where you were somebody's second choice.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Roman continued.
“I admired you before I even knew your name.”
He took a breath.
“And then I met you properly.”
I laughed through tears.
“While you terrorized my bakery.”
He smiled.
“With a coffee order.”
“Very aggressive.”
He chuckled.
Then looked into my eyes.
“You challenged me. You questioned my decisions. You refused to let me buy my way into your trust.”
His voice trembled.
“You also taught me that caring about someone doesn't mean trying to solve their entire life for them.”
I swallowed.
Roman continued.
“I can't promise I'll never make another mistake. But I can promise not to hide from them.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
“Harper Bennett, I don't want you to give up your bakery. I don't want you to become someone different because of my name. I don't want a wife who smiles politely when she has something important to say.”
He held out the ring.
“I want the woman who tells me when I'm wrong.”
His eyes shone.
“The woman who makes terrible jokes when she's nervous.”
I laughed.
“And the woman who somehow makes every ordinary morning feel like the best place in the world.”
My heart felt too full.
Roman swallowed.
“Will you marry me?”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
I remembered Nolan.
The champagne.
The ring against the linen.
The awful word enough.
I remembered crying on the sidewalk.
The stranger catching my elbow.
The flour-covered mornings afterward.
The apologies.
The difficult conversations.
The choices Roman had made when they cost him something real.
Then I looked at the man kneeling in front of me.
And I knew my answer.
“Yes.”
Roman froze.
“Really?”
I laughed through tears.
“Yes, Roman. I'll marry you.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
Then stood.
I wrapped my arms around him.
He held me close.
For one wonderful moment, everything became quiet.
Then June shouted from the back room.
“FINALLY!”
I burst out laughing.
Roman closed his eyes.
“She's been waiting behind the door.”
I looked at him.
“You planned this?”
He smiled.
“Poorly, apparently.”
June emerged holding a camera.
Avery appeared behind her carrying flowers.
And when I saw my cousin, I began crying again.
Avery hugged me.
“This time,” she whispered, “you look happy.”
I smiled.
“I am.”
We didn't announce the engagement immediately.
I wanted a little time to enjoy it.
No photographs in society magazines.
No elaborate press release.
No business announcement disguised as romance.
Just dinner with our families and closest friends.
Roman agreed.
He had become remarkably good at understanding that not everything beautiful needed an audience.
Several weeks later, Nolan sent a letter through his attorney.
He acknowledged that our engagement was over and addressed certain unresolved financial matters relating to the canceled wedding.
His business affairs remained subject to proceedings and reviews.
He did not ask me to return.
For the first time, his words contained no suggestion that I was being emotional or unreasonable.
I didn't respond personally.
There was nothing left to say.
I placed the letter in the old wedding binder.
Then closed it.
Not every relationship needed a final confrontation.
Some simply needed to end.
That evening, Roman found me in the bakery kitchen looking at my ring.
He approached.
“Regrets?”
I smiled.
“Not about you.”
His expression softened.
I continued.
“I'm thinking about Mom.”
He took my hand.
“She would have liked you,” he said.
My eyes filled.
“I hope so.”
Roman smiled faintly.
“She helped my father when he needed it most. I think she'd appreciate the fact that you've been helping me learn how to make a decent cinnamon roll.”
I laughed.
“You're not there yet.”
“Cruel.”
“Honest.”
He kissed my forehead.
“My favorite kind.”
And for the first time, I wasn't frightened of what marriage might mean.
May you like
Because I wasn't marrying someone to become chosen.
I was choosing someone who already knew I belonged to myself.
