Technically we’re here for Mom’s sixty-sixth birthday, but a large part of the coming champagne toast has to do with me. Blaire Lavender, with a six figure publishing contract in hand after a four house auction, has just been booked on The View. This means that all the women in my mother’s circle will finally see value in my work.

We’re standing in Justin’s kitchen, exact same positions as last year, while Fraser opens a bottle of champagne. As he unscrews the cork—heh, screws—Sawyer is twisting around me. Literally, she’s doing the twist.

“Do you think Everest’s going to ask me to the spring dance?” Now that she’s thirteen, Charlotte and Justin have cautiously decided she can begin micro-dating. That means she can go for ice cream with a boy as long as they stay in a group, or go to a dance with a boy. Everest is the lucky fellow. Still hanging around at thirteen? He’s got staying power, that one.

“He gave you Eddie Redmayne’s head last year, didn’t he? I think you’re a shoo in.”

“Dare I ask if it was an actual head?” Fraser drawls as he pours champagne into several flutes. I pick up the tray, smiling as Sawyer runs out of the room to chase after Sebastian. He’s a non-stop running three year old these days. It’s a lot to handle.

“I’m going to let you wonder.” I grin as he kisses me. “Careful, don’t want to drop these.”

Fraser and I head to the living room, where all the usual suspects are gathered. Justin and Charlotte have their arms around each other, and smile when we hand them some booze. The parents of three kids always deserve alcohol. It’s law.

“Thanks, boss.” Justin gives Fraser a playful slug in the shoulder. Last year, Fraser put him on retainer as legal counsel. It came with a very fat payday. Charlotte now thinks Fraser’s God’s gift, the epitome of human perfection. Well, I might agree with her there.

“I told you, it’s only boss in private.” Fraser beams, then frowns. “Wait. I think I’ve opened myself up to one of Emma’s sexual jokes.”

“You think correctly,” I tell him, and wink. While he and Justin keep chatting, I pass a flute to Lily. She’s in the window seat, bent over a textbook. Yes, she’s back at school, studying marketing. Yes, we’re all thrilled.

“Thanks! Do you think champagne needs to be marketed?” She takes a sip. “Because I could be, like, really good at that job.”

Bless. I give Sawyer and Sage some sparkling cider, then finally head over to Mom and Dad. This time, Dad’s not stooped over listening to an iPod, and Mom gives a gracious smile when I hand her the booze.

“Thank you, Emma. You know, I always knew you’d land a man.” Mom blanches as Dad clears his throat. “The right man, I mean. Because it’s what you deserve.” She trips over the words a bit like she’s rehearsed them, but it’s enough. Dad looks pleased.

After Lily’s Gavin debacle, Dad took a stand against Mom. He told her that if she didn’t start caring more about Lily’s future—and giving me an easier time—he was going to leave. Strangely enough, I think that speaking up is what Mom spent years waiting for. As for Dad, well, he seems more engaged with the world now. Fewer pineapple spears, more actual conversations. I can’t say their marriage is anyone’s ideal, but it’s a lot better than it was.

I gave them Blaire’s book. I think it helped. Also, I think Dad tried the avocado facemask, but I don’t judge.

I head over to Fraser and clink glasses. “Probably never thought you’d be back at this craziness one year later.”

“Many things I never expected.” His mouth quirks in a smile, a devastatingly sexy expression. “Come on.” He takes our glasses and puts them down. “I need to talk to you outside.”

“Before the toast?”

“It will be only a minute.”

Well, I’m a sucker for a good mystery. So long as it doesn’t involve a dead body in the flowerbed; that’s too much reality for me right now. Fraser and I slip outside, and stand on the front stoop. There, he folds me into a kiss. I’m not complaining.

And I’m really not complaining when, after it’s over, he gets down on one knee and takes my hands. In fact, I don’t know how to complain. The sight of this blows all my former life complaints—the Kardashians, skim milk, Sense8’s cancellation—right out the window.

“Oh hoooo,” I say, articulate as always.

“Come again?” he asks. I’ll never tire of how sexy he looks when he’s utterly confused by me. “Emma Brightman. Will you marry me?” He says it simply, without fuss. Confident. Controlled. Everything he has always been. But when he reaches into his pocket and slides out a black velvet box, which opens to display an oval diamond…well, there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes. That small, vulnerable part of him is something only the lucky few get to see. And I’m happy to be one of them.

Likewise, my first instinct is to make some quip, tease him a little bit. But that’s not what the moment calls for. I let only the chosen few see me teary and completely earnest. And Fraser’s the top choice.

“Yes,” I say, taking out the ring and putting it on my finger. I mean, it comes out a little like ‘yeth’ because I get blubbery, but it was an earnest moment nonetheless. Fraser stands, takes me into his arms again, and kisses me in full view of the neighborhood children riding past on bikes. They shout something, but I’m in such a blissful state I forget to flip them off.

This is truly a magical moment.

“Are you sure you can handle Delia Brightman as your mother-in-law?” I plant another small kiss on his lips.

“So long as we can install a panic room into which I can disappear on occasion, all should be well.” He kisses me back, and then takes my hand. “I think we shouldn’t keep your family waiting.”

It’s kind of our family now, which is a lot of fun to think about. So we go back inside, take our glasses, and join Justin and the others in raising a toast to Mom. Fraser and I drink, our hands clasped. His thumb traces lightly over the diamond on my finger.

What a difference a year makes. Here’s to many more.

* * *