“The Santos men are the most patient, persistent men on the planet. Mad and I are both rooting for him. Besides, it’s giving me an excuse to expand my skillset with restorations.” I pat the handlebar of the bike and turn back to her. “Are you ready to head out?”
She holds up her backpack. “Do I have time to get changed? You didn’t tell me what you had planned for us, so I hope what I brought works.”
“Whatever you want to wear is fine. Just make sure you have a jacket.”
Once she’s changed out of her scrubs into jeans and a sweater, I strap Zoe into her car seat in the back of the Mustang, making sure her little hat is secure. It’s a sunny February day, though still cool for Los Angeles. But there’s no way in hell I’m taking this car out with the top up on a day like this.
The engine rumbles to life as smoothly as ever, purring like a kitten when I give her gas. My brother’s on hand to open the garage for us and waves goodbye, giving me a knowing wink as I head down the alley to the street at the end.
I make my way through the city streets north into the Hollywood Hills. Eventually the windy neighborhood streets lined with million-dollar homes give way to undeveloped landscape, green from winter rainstorms. The road winds around and the wind whips Callie’s hair across her face. She laughs in delight, turning in her seat at the sound of Zoe’s enthusiastic squeals from behind. Her little hands are up in the air and her two-toothed grin radiant as if she’s on the ride of her life.
“This is exciting, isn’t it, Zoe? Dada’s taking us on an adventure!” Then she looks at me and says, “You know, in all the years I’ve lived in LA, I’ve never ventured up into the hills.”
“It’s worth the trouble, trust me.”
In a little while I reach our destination, an overlook with a view of the city in one direction and the famed Hollywood sign in another. My heartbeat speeds up as I pull into the empty parking lot, grateful for the relative privacy. It’s a romantic spot, but most couples won’t be venturing to places like this for a few more hours.
Callie is laughing as she fights with her tangled hair, her blonde tresses a mess from the ride. “I wish I’d known this was the plan or I’d have brought a hat, or at least braided my hair first.”
She digs into her purse for a hairbrush and begins to work through the tangles.
“Baby, you’re gorgeous no matter how your hair looks, but I think I have something in the glovebox that’ll help for the ride home.”
Setting her brush on her lap, she leans forward to pop open the door to the glovebox. There’s only one object inside, and she just stares at it for several beats before putting one hand to her mouth.
“Oh, Mason. Is this what I think it is?”
Shakily she reaches inside and delicately lifts the small velvet box. She stares at it for another second before slowly opening the lid, then stares some more, her mouth open.
I turn in my seat and take her hand. “Callista Angelica Longo-Nicolo, you’re the woman of my dreams, the light of my life—” A raspberry noise from the backseat cuts me off and Callie lifts an eyebrow. “Okay, one of the lights of my life. I hecking adore you. Will you marry me?”
She snorts a laugh, then declares, “Yes! My god, I thought you would never actually do it! I love you so much. Both of you. Of course I’ll marry you.”
I extract the sparkly ring from inside the box and slip it on her finger, feeling a surge of pride at the way it shines in the sunlight. I shouldn’t compare it to the trashy little thing her ex gave her, but the look in her eyes tells me I did good. The diamond is about five times the size of the old one, and the band is encircled with tiny diamonds too. It cost a pretty penny, but I wanted to indulge.
I plan to spend the rest of my life spoiling her and Zoe as much as humanly possible.
46 Callie
I’m practically blinded by the enormous rock Mason just put on my finger, but I still can’t stop looking at it. I always considered myself a practical woman, and was satisfied with the ring my ex gave me at the time. But really, is “satisfied” the right way to feel when the love of your life proposes to you?
With Barnaby, it was a formality—the logical next step in our already too formal relationship. With Mason, it feels like the culmination of years of pent-up anticipation for something I didn’t even realize I was waiting for, and now that it’s finally here, I can barely contain my joy.
After I say yes, I throw myself into his arms and kiss him, happy tears streaming down my face. Before too long I’m straddling him, heedless of our public location and the baby in the back seat. I just can’t stop; I love this man so damn much.
He groans into my mouth as the crotch of his jeans swells between us. Then he grips me by the shoulders. “Baby, the day’s only getting started. We’ll have time for this later when we’re alone.”
Sighing, I slip off his lap. “I know. I’m just so happy. Um, I have something for you too.”
I settle back in my seat and peek into my purse, searching for the item I stowed in it a few weeks ago, not long after the night we learned his father had died—the night he promised me this day would come.
It’s a small box, nowhere near as fancy as
