“Christopher Flynn, so help me!” I hate having to get down on my knees while wearing a nice dress and heels, but I can’t find Chris’s other shoe and we’re already running late for our reservation. Under the sofa there’s crayons, race cars, but no shoe. “I swear, you’re enough to drive an angel to drink!”

“Found it, Mommy!”

Tyson swings Chris over his shoulder and jams the shoe on his little foot while our son laughs and squeals and smacks his palms against his father’s back.

“Swing me! Swing me!” he shouts.

Tyson sets him on his feet instead. “Not just now, little man.” He straightens Christopher’s clothing out. “You’re going to stay at grandma’s for the night, remember? Mommy and I have important things to do.”

“Kissy things?” Christopher giggles with his hands over his mouth.

“Erm, something like that.” Tyson smirks in my general direction, but I can only shake my head and laugh.

“All right you lot. Let’s get moving before the restaurant cancels our reservation.” Tyson picks up Chris while I carry his little backpack, and the three of us walk out to the car together.

A whole weekend alone. What parent doesn’t crave it? We drop Christopher off at my mother’s. I can hardly stop looking at Tyson, touching his arm, his knee as he drives the car. I can barely wait to be alone with him.

We fly to Paris by private plane. It’s been more than three years since I was here last. I thought I would never come back. The memories would have been too painful. It’s a special night and I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to book Tyson’s favorite restaurant and a wonderful hotel. Nothing will stop it from being absolutely perfect.

Except a mix-up at the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, but there seems to have been a mix-up,” the maître d’ tells us.

“I beg your pardon?” I ask with a sinking heart. “I made this reservation three months ago.”

“Yes, madam, I’m sure you did, but it must have been entered into the system incorrectly. I have no record of it here, and we’re completely full. Perhaps you canceled it and forgot.” He gives us a sympathetic smile before turning his attention to the couple waiting behind us.

I feel like such a fool. I’ve gone and ruined our anniversary. I look up at Tyson. “I’m so sorry, darling. I don’t know what happened. I should have made a second call to confirm.”

But Tyson doesn’t look perturbed. He just shrugs. That’s one of the things I’ve come to most appreciate about him, the way he usually manages to maintain a good outlook. “This isn’t the only restaurant in the city,” he says as he helps me out of the door.

“No, but this is your favorite restaurant and I wanted it to be special for you,” I wail. I’m so disappointed I feel on the verge of tears.

“True, true.” He kisses the side of my neck, then murmurs in my ear, “But you know, my hotel has great room service.”

And just like that, three years disappear and it’s that night again. We’re standing on a sidewalk outside an apartment building, and he’s trying like mad to get me back to his hotel. I giggle softly at the memory.

“What about this sixties club I know?” he asks.

“Lead the way, good man,” I say leaning against him. It’s not quite the night I had in mind, especially not while I’m wearing my sexiest dress, but there’s something poetic about going back to the place we first got to know each other all those years ago.

Like magic a waitress finds the only available table as soon as we come in. We settle in the back. The crowd seems younger and rowdier than they did before. Maybe, it’s motherhood or maybe I’m older. The waitress is quick to return with our Jamesons. We clink glasses.

“This is where I fell in love with you,” Tyson says.

“You did?” I ask, blushing a little. Even after a year of living and raising our son together, he still makes me feel like a giggly schoolgirl. He’s the only one who does that to me.

“Oh, for sure. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and the way you moved. I was hiding my erection the whole night.”

“I felt it, too,” I admit, playing with my glass, smiling to myself. “I was worried nothing would come of it, but I hoped. I really did hope.”

“I told myself I was crazy to care so much about a girl I’d only just met, but I couldn’t help myself. You were air. I needed to be inside you.”

“Me, too,” I whisper, looking deep into those familiar eyes and knowing I would never get tired of looking into them. I’ve never been so happy. Not just now, either, but always. The last year has felt like one long happy dream. Just one day after another that I never want it to end.

“I need to ask you something.”

“What?”

He reaches into his pocket, and suddenly I know. That’s the one thing I’ve been wishing for all this time. Even though I don’t care a thing about society and what a family “should” look like, I’ve been wanting to marry him. Wishing he would want the same thing. Thinking he might, but knowing how busy he’s been with his horses.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hands.

“You had to know something big was coming tonight,” he whispers, grinning like mad.

“I didn’t dare think about it. I didn’t want to be disappointed.”

His laughter rings out loud and clear, even over the noise all around us. “I have a confession to make,” he murmurs.

“What?” I can hardly breathe.

“I canceled your dinner reservation.”

“You what?” I gasp.

He nods, grinning that wicked little grin I see on his son whenever he knows he’s done something naughty. “I wanted it to be here, because this place is special for us. We can always go to that restaurant, but this is where we first fell in love. Isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is. It’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect. So, Isabella Faraday will you marry me.” He opens the box but I don’t look at the ring. I’m sure it’s beautiful, probably much bigger than anything I would pick out for myself. Instead, I look at him. Beautiful him. He’s given me everything I could ever want—love, joy, security, comfort, adventure, a family. And we’ve only just begun.

“What do you say? Make it official?” he asks.

“Of course, the answer is yes, yes, yes,” I choke out before I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze the life out of him. Yes, I want to be his wife. I want to be his forever. I want to have more of his children and fill our home with laughter and love and yes, the occasional fight—but we’ll always go back to love. We always do.

“Thank you,” I whisper in his ear as my eyes fill with tears of happiness.

“For what?”

“For being my real life hero.”

He pulls me away from him and looks at me with the sweetest smile on his handsome face before sealing our engagement with a kiss.

“Chris was right,” I laugh as Tyson slides the lovely diamond and platinum ring on my finger.

“About what?”

“About there being a lot of kissy things happening tonight.”