Page 29 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor

I finally locate my keys beneath a half-eaten package of fish crackers and a tiny board book about ducks. The chaos of motherhood still occasionally overwhelms me, but I wouldn't trade it for anything—not the sticky fingerprints on every surface, not the toys scattered across the living room floor, not the bedtime negotiations that can rival United Nations peace talks.

The lock clicks open, and I nudge the door with my hip, already mentally planning dinner. There's leftover lasagna wecan reheat, and I should really make a salad to balance all that cheese. Daniel won't be home for at least two hours, which gives me time to get Emma fed, bathed, and maybe even—

My thoughts screech to a halt as I step inside. Rose petals. Dozens of them, forming a trail across our hardwood floors.

"Pretty!" Emma exclaims, instantly alert, pointing at the splash of crimson against the oak.

"Yes," I agree, my voice faint even to my own ears. "Very pretty."

I set my purse down, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs. The trail leads down the hallway, past the living room where Daniel has gradually replaced my shabby furniture with pieces we chose together, past the kitchen where we've spent countless evenings cooking and laughing and occasionally burning things when we get distracted by each other.

"Down," Emma demands, squirming in my arms. "Walk."

I set her on her feet, and she immediately toddles toward the rose petals, delighted by this unexpected game. I follow her, feeling almost as unsteady on my feet as she is.

The trail leads to Emma's bedroom—the room that once was my father's study, now transformed with pale yellow walls and a hand-painted mural of a tree that Daniel spent three weekends perfecting. Emma pushes the door open with both hands, and I follow, unprepared for the sight that greets me.

More rose petals cover the floor, arranged in a perfect heart. And in the center, kneeling on one knee, is Daniel.

He's wearing the charcoal gray suit I love, the one that makes him look like he stepped out of a magazine. His hair is slightly tousled, the way it gets when he runs his hands through it nervously. And in his outstretched palm sits a small velvetbox, open to reveal a ring that catches the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

"Daddy!" Emma squeals, launching herself at him with the single-minded determination of a toddler who adores her father.

Daniel catches her with his free arm, balancing her on his knee without taking his eyes off me.

"Hey, princess," he says, pressing a kiss to her dark curls. "Daddy needs to ask Mommy a very important question. Can you help me?"

Emma nods solemnly, though I doubt she understands what's happening. I stand frozen in the doorway, one hand pressed to my mouth, tears already blurring my vision.

"Maya Sullivan," Daniel says, his voice steady despite the emotion I can see in his eyes. "I had a whole speech prepared, but now that you're standing here, looking at me like that, I can't remember a word of it."

A watery laugh escapes me. "You're doing fine so far."

"I wanted to do this here, in Emma's room," he continues, "because without her, we might never have found our way to each other. She's the best surprise of my life—second only to falling in love with her mother."

Emma, sensing the importance of the moment despite her young age, stays unusually still in her father's arms, her small hand patting his cheek in what looks remarkably like encouragement.

"These past years have been the happiest of my life," Daniel says. "Watching you be a mother, building a home with you, waking up beside you every morning—it's more than I ever thought I'd have. More than I knew to want."

The tears are flowing freely now, tracking down my cheeks. I don't bother to wipe them away.

"I know we've done things a little out of order," he continues with a smile. "But I'd like to get at least one tradition right." He holds the ring a little higher. "Maya Sullivan, will you marry me?"

"Say yes, Mama!" Emma chimes in, clearly catching on that this is her cue to participate.

Through my tears, I see the ring—a vintage-looking oval diamond surrounded by smaller stones, set in rose gold. It's perfect, exactly what I would have chosen.

"Yes," I manage, the word catching on a sob. "Of course, yes."

Daniel's face breaks into that gorgeous smile that still makes my knees weak. He stands, lifting Emma with him, and crosses to me in two long strides. With our daughter balanced on his hip, he takes my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly.

"I love you," he says, cupping my cheek with his free hand. "Both of you, more than I have words for."

"We love you too," I whisper, rising on tiptoes to kiss him softly. "Don't we, Em?"

"Love Daddy," Emma agrees, pressing a slightly wet kiss to his cheek before squirming to be put down. Once on her feet, she immediately begins playing with the rose petals, tossing handfuls into the air with delighted giggles.

Daniel pulls me close, his arms encircling my waist as we watch our daughter play. "I had planned a much more elaborate proposal," he admits, his breath warm against my ear. "Dinner reservations, violin players, the works. But then I realized... this is us. Our family. Our home. It felt right to ask you here, where it all started."

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