I look around the office and tug nervously at the light blue button-down shirt I’m wearing. It still feels weird to be in here — after all, this used to be Charlene’s office.

When Trent had first offered me this job, I had resisted. Sure, it was my dream job, but it didn’t feel right taking the job this way. But Trent had insisted. He had moved both Charlene and Jim into retail management — handling signage and displays at all the retail stores, which meant they were barely ever in the office, and when they were, they were nowhere near the catalog.

Plus Trent had said that he wanted to take my idea of showcasing more of the behind-the-scenes work in the catalog — photos and stories from the workshop, plans and progress pictures of the pieces Luke was working on. Really sell the idea of Loft & Barn as an artisan furniture company, as a way to distinguish it from its competitors.

Since it had been my idea to start with, Trent said he didn’t trust anyone else to bring the vision to life.

I’d finally accepted, but only on the condition that I didn’t report directly to him. That seemed like a bad idea for our relationship, as well as for my career. Instead, I report to Richard Carrier, the long-time chief marketing strategist. He’s such a vet that the fact that I’m in a relationship with the boss doesn’t faze him and he has no qualms on calling me out when I’m doing something stupid. Which is actually what I wanted — I want to learn while I’m here. Eventually I’ll move to a new company — something that’ll give Trent and I more separation — but for now I’m going to soak up everything I can from this opportunity.

There’s a knock at my office door.

“Hey!” I say with relief as Sloane pops her head in. “Is it coffee time yet?”

She grins. “Dear God, yes. I’m dying. I have a quick question about the new section first though.”

“Sure, grab a seat.”

Sloane sits and we chat through the plan for the outdoor section of the catalog. With Jim gone, I needed a new section editor and Sloane was the obvious choice. We had thankfully been able to patch things up after I told her everything about Trent. When she realized we were actually in love — and that I wasn’t just banging the boss to get ahead — she had forgiven me for keeping it from her. If anything, our friendship has gotten deeper over the last six months.

After we’re done talking, Sloane and I head out to our usual coffee shop.

“Any fun plans for this weekend?” she asks, sipping her iced Americano.

“Trent’s taking me out to dinner,” I tell her as I break off a piece of banana muffin. “L’Amour,” I add.

She raises her eyebrows. “L’Amour? That’s your special place, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Wonder if he’s planning something special?”

I shrug uncomfortably. “Probably just going to ask me to move in with him again.” We’d been talking about it for months, but I was still putting him off. I wasn’t ready to leave Ally alone yet. And even though we’ve never loved our apartment building, lately they’ve been making all kinds of upgrades — they fixed the front door so that the push button never seems to break anymore, and they recently added a 24-hour concierge, which makes things safer and easier for Ally when she’s coming and going.

The strange thing is that each of these improvements seems to come after Trent and I have one of our discussions about how I’m not ready to move out yet.

“I don’t know,” Sloane says with a chuckle. “My guess is that if Trent is taking you to L’Amour, it’s for something special.”

“We’ll see,” I say. I’m sure it’s just about the apartment though.

* * *

I glance around the restaurant as I wait for Hannah, and I can’t help but think back to the other times I’ve waited for her here, and the time we didn’t even make it here at all.

That first night — when I was Mister Bigshot and she was SweetVixen. The night she saw me and ran as fast as a frightened deer.

The second time we tried to come here, when we didn’t even make it to the restaurant. We’d ended up back at my penthouse — which admittedly was better than anything we could have eaten here.

The last time we’d come here was the night I’d first told Hannah I loved her. The night we’d agreed to give this relationship an honest try.

A decision I thanked God for every day.

I glance up just in time to see her scurrying across the restaurant.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she breathes. She looks beyond radiant in a ruby colored curve-hugging dress, and there’s a flush in her cheeks that matches the dress almost perfectly. I think about canning this whole night and just taking her back home with me, but then I feel the weight of the small box in my pocket and know I have to do this. Now. I don’t want to spend another day without a real commitment, without knowing she’ll be mine forever.

I get up and kiss her lightly on the cheek, then pull out her seat for her. She slips into it with a breathless laugh.

“Aren’t you a gentleman tonight,” she says with a grin.

“Hey,” I say, pretending to be put out. “Aren’t I always?”

She smiles and it lights up my heart. “Yes, I suppose you are.”

I want to wait until dessert to do it, but it’s torture getting through our other courses. Hannah keeps up a constant stream of conversation, mostly about work, and I’m sure she’s wondering why I’m so quiet. And why I seem to be sweating so much.

When they’ve finally cleared away the last of our meal, the server arrives with our creme brûlées and a bottle of champagne I had requested earlier. I wait impatiently as he pops the bottle and pours out two bubbly glasses.

Hannah looks confused, looking from the server to me to the champagne and back again. “Did you order this?”

I nod. “I thought you’d like something a little special.”

“What’s the occasion?” She picks up her glass and holds it out to me to clink, but I make no motion to pick up my glass. The confusion on her face deepens and she sets her glass back down without taking a sip.

“Hannah,” I start, and then I take a deep breath. This is it.

“Do you remember the first time we tried to meet here? Our first date — well, the date that wasn’t?”

She raises her eyebrows and nods, and I go on.

“I saw you coming across the restaurant and I admit, I was a bit surprised. You didn’t look like the women I normally dated, but your wholesome beauty somehow knocked me on my ass. And I had the strangest thought.” I take a deep breath. “I thought, this is the kind of girl you marry.”

Hannah sucks in a breath. I grin and reach into my pocket, pulling out the small and unmistakable black velvet box.

Hannah claps a hand over her mouth as I get down on one knee. Everyone in the restaurant is staring at us but I only have eyes for her — my sweet, sexy beauty.

“I want to do it, Hannah. I want to marry that girl. For real. Will you do me the honor of agreeing to be my wife?”

“Oh, God, yes. Yes, Trent.” She practically falls off her chair into my arms as everyone in the restaurant applauds, and then our lips are smashing together, over and over and over, too excited to even kiss properly. When she finally pulls away she’s laughing and crying and I take her hand and slide the ring onto her delicate finger.

“It’s a perfect fit,” she announces, looking down at the diamond I picked out. “And it’s beautiful, Trent. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect ring.”

“And I couldn’t imagine a more perfect woman,” I tell her honestly, and then she’s crying again.

I tilt her head up and kiss her lips for real this time, soft and slow and deep.

“There’ll be more of that later,” I tell her softly, and she giggles.

She takes a sip of her champagne.

“Sloane isn’t going to believe this,” she says, still laughing. “She guessed that you were up to something when I told her you were taking me to L’Amour.”

I grin sheepishly. “Well, Sloane may have known a little more than she was letting on.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had her and Ally weigh in on the ring when I was trying to pick it out.”

Hannah’s jaw drops. “You mean Ally knew too?! I’m going to kill her.”

I laugh. “Don’t hold it against them. I did swear them to secrecy, after all.”

She smiles. “Well,” she says, taking another sip of her champagne. “I suppose it was worth it.”

“Yes, it really was.” It was all worth it — every last minute. It was all worth it to end up here, sitting across from the most perfect woman in the world. My SweetVixen.