Page 58 of The Black Wife Blessing

I take a deep breath and pull out the box, setting it on the table between us. Her eyes widen.

"Henry, what's?—"

"I want this to be real, Monica. All of it." I open the box, revealing a three-carat oval diamond set in platinum with smaller diamonds cascading down the band. "No more pretending. I want you as my wife—for real this time."

Her hand flies to her mouth. "Oh my God."

"The first ring was rushed. This one..." I take it out, holding it between us. "This is what you deserve. Something chosen specifically for you."

Monica's eyes fill with tears as I slip it onto her finger. Perfect fit.

"It's beautiful," she whispers, turning her hand to catch the light. "But are you sure? After everything with Benjamin, the accident?—"

"I've never been more sure of anything." I take both her hands in mine. "I want a real wedding, Monica. Friends, family, the whole thing. I want to stand up in front of everyone and tell them how much I love you."

She stares at the ring, then back at me, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"So what do you say, Monica West? Will you marry me? For real this time?"

I hold my breath as Monica's eyes meet mine. For a split second, I worry I've pushed too far, too fast.

"Yes," she says, her voice breaking with emotion. "Of course I'll marry you, Henry. For real this time."

My heart hammers against my chest as I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there. The diamond catches the light, sending prisms dancing across her face.

"It's perfect," she whispers, holding her hand up to admire it.

I lean across the table and kiss her, not giving a damn who's watching. When we break apart, I notice Olivia standing nearby with a knowing smile. She gives me a subtle thumbs up before disappearing back to the kitchen.

"You planned this with her, didn't you?" Monica asks, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.

"Guilty." I take a sip of whiskey, savoring the warm burn. "I wanted tonight to be special."

"It is." She reaches across the table to take my hand. "I never thought I'd get here—being happy, feeling safe, planning a future with someone who actually sees me."

"I see all of you, Monica. The good, the complicated, all of it."

We return to our meal, but I can't stop staring at her—the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, how she savors each bite with that little hum of appreciation. I've never felt this kind of contentment before.

Olivia returns carrying a covered silver platter, flanked by two servers with champagne.

"Congratulations are in order, I hear," she announces, setting the platter between us with a flourish. The entire restaurant seems to hold its breath in anticipation.

She removes the cover to reveal an exquisite dessert—a chocolate dome surrounded by fresh berries and edible flowers. The craftsmanship is fucking incredible, even by Olivia's standards. As we watch, she pours warm caramel sauce over the top, the golden liquid cascading down the chocolate surface, melting the dome to reveal two perfect chocolate soufflés inside. The scent of rich chocolate and caramel fills the air between us.

"My special creation for Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood," Olivia says with a wink, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Though technically, you're already that on paper."

Monica squeezes my hand. Her touch sends electricity up my arm. That beautiful smile of hers—the one that still knocks the wind out of me—spreads across her face. "We're making it official—properly this time."

39

MONICA

Islide the knife through the peppers with practiced precision, the satisfying sound of the blade hitting the cutting board filling Leo and Olivia's gorgeous kitchen. The diamond on my finger catches the light, still feeling strange and wonderful on my hand.

"Girl, you're gonna blind us with that rock," Celia quips, nudging my shoulder as she stirs the risotto. "Henry didn't hold back."

"Just like his cousin," Olivia adds, gesturing toward Celia with a wooden spoon. "Remember when Aston proposed? I thought you were gonna need sunglasses just to look at your own hand."

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