Page 63 of Worth the Wait
“I’m so proud of you,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight with emotion. “Though I’m not surprised. You’re extraordinary at what you do, and it’s about time the entire city figured out what I’ve known all along.”
“We should celebrate,” I say, still dizzy from success and his reaction to it. “Maybe that new restaurant in West Hollywood you’ve been wanting to try?”
“Already handled. And better than a restaurant.” Cameron takes my hand, leading me toward the hotel entrance where afternoon sunlight streams through massive glass doors. “I made lunch. At my place.”
“You cooked?” The surprise in my voice makes him laugh, the sound echoing off the marble floors. “Cameron Phillip Arthur Judd cooked actual food?”
“I’m full of surprises. Though I should warn you—I may have gotten slightly carried away with the menu planning.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking into Cameron’s Malibu townhouse, and I can smell something incredible coming from the kitchen. The dining room table is set with his good china—the Waterford crystal and silver that usually only appear for his parents’ dinner parties—but it’s paired with a beautiful peony centerpiece.
“Cameron Judd, did you actually cook for me?”
“I had help from a very detailed YouTube tutorial, two phone calls to Maya for recipe advice, and possibly a minor panic attack when the soufflé didn’t rise the first time,” he admits, pulling a chair out for me with the gallant attention that made me fall for him in the first place. “But yes, I cooked for you, my love.”
The meal is perfect—not because the food is flawless, though it’s surprisingly sophisticated, but because of the way Cameron watches my face while I taste everything. The way he tells me about his morning board meeting between courses, listening when I interrupt with questions about the renewable energy partnerships Sterling Industries is developing. The way he hangs on every detail about the Ashworth-Taylor consultation like it’s the most fascinating business strategy he’s ever heard.
“So Bailey asked how we met,” I say over the main course—perfectly marinated spicy chicken adobo.
“What did you tell her?”
“That we met at Sophia’s wedding four years ago and reconnected when you hired Luminous Events for the Sterling Industries celebration.” I set down my fork, studying his face in the afternoon light streaming through his windows. “She called it romantic. The perfect partnership.”
“She’s not wrong.” Cameron reaches across the table to take my hand, his fingers warm and familiar. “Though she has no idea I nearly screwed it up because I was too much of a coward to fight for us the first time.”
“Or that I ran away to a farmers’ market instead of having an adult conversation about my feelings.”
“We got it right eventually.” His thumb traces across my knuckles in that familiar gesture that still makes my pulse race.“We learned how to choose each other even when it’s difficult. Even when other people have opinions about what we should want.”
“We did.” I turn my hand to intertwine our fingers. “Your parents have been wonderful, by the way. Your mother called yesterday to ask if I wanted to join her book club. Apparently, they’re reading something about women entrepreneurs that made her think of me.”
“She’s been telling everyone about your Highland Community Center fundraiser. I think she’s more proud of that event than she was of the Sterling Industries gala.”
The thought of Mrs. Judd bragging about my pro bono work to her social circle makes me smile. Six months ago, she could barely tolerate my presence at family dinner. Now she introduces me to her friends as “Cameron’s brilliant girlfriend who’s revolutionizing luxury event planning while supporting important community causes.”
“Speaking of your mother,” I continue, “she wants to know when we’re going to make things official. Apparently, Sophia’s been dropping hints about wanting to plan an engagement party.”
“That’s convenient,” Cameron says, standing suddenly and moving around the table toward me. “Which brings me to the real reason I wanted to celebrate with you today.”
Something in his tone makes me look at him more carefully. There’s an energy about him, a barely contained excitement that seems disproportionate even to my professional triumph. His hands are slightly shaky as he reaches for my chair, helping me stand to face him.
“Cameron—”
“Lianne, nine months ago, you walked back into my life and reminded me what it feels like to want something more than just professional success.” His voice carries the kind of vulnerable honesty that he usually reserves for our most private moments. “You’ve built something incredible. Not just your business, but the way you’ve made space for yourself in worlds that didn’t always welcome you. The way you’ve never compromised who you are to fit someone else’s expectations.”
“Where are you going with this?” I ask, my heart racing.
“I’m going toward the part where I ask you to build something incredible with me. Permanently.” Cameron moves to kneel before me, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket with hands that shake slightly. “Marry me, Lianne. Not because it makes strategic sense or because our families approve—though they do now—but because I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
The ring is stunning—a classic solitaire that catches the afternoon light streaming through his windows, elegant and timeless without being ostentatious. But it’s his face I can’t stop staring at. The hope there, the vulnerability, the absolute certainty that this is what he wants.
“You want to marry me?”
“I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life. I want to celebrate your successes and support you through challenges and argue about whose turn it is to load the dishwasher.” His smile is soft, devastating. “I want to love you completely, publicly, permanently. I want to build a life where we both get to be exactly who we are while choosing each other every single day. Will you let me?”
The answer is yes, has been yes since the moment he showed up at the farmers’ market with sunflowers and explanations six months ago. But instead of words, I answer by framing his face with my hands and kissing him until we’re both breathless and the expensive lunch is completely forgotten.
“Is that a yes?” he asks against my lips.
