I’ve been working for Blair for six months and I’ve been a little off lately. It feels like it’s been ages since a patron has asked to speak to me about one of my entrees. Blair lets me prepare at least one dish per week that’s 100% my recipe.

Naturally, I can’t contain my ecstasy when any of my menu items are well received by our most loyal customers. I’m in more direct contact with my catering clients and the guests who consume my creations there, and they continue to rave about me, as well as put money behind their feedback through repeat orders and referrals.

Here at Gauche, it’s been quiet. I can’t help wanting more.

Tonight, in between our two scheduled dinner sittings, Patrick, the late twenties weeknight maître d’ makes my day. He comes into the kitchen and informs me that someone has asked for me.

I’m excited. Torn too, because not all feedback is stellar. But then again, it’s been so long since I’ve had that face to face interaction with anyone here, I’m happy to have evoked any reaction at all related to tonight’s entrée: herb butter quail under a mango pineapple glaze served with Sherry vinegar red potatoes, sweet onions, and gorgonzola.

Removing my apron, I say a little prayer and push through the kitchen access doors. On the other side, though, I discover a near-empty dining area. It makes sense that the place would be partially cleared out. We’re between dinner sittings. Which means that the patron must really be taking his or her time savoring my entrée. Or not.

I look around. There’s only the maître d’, a few wait staff preparing the tables for the next sitting, and one couple near the front with their backs to me. I put on my most professional smile as I reach their table and hope for the best.

If it weren’t for the young woman around my age with the long, wavy blonde hair, I would’ve recognized the man already.

“Dylan?” I say his name in a question. Has he been here for an entire meal without letting me know? With this girl? I study her face more closely. She’s familiar somehow, but I’m almost sure I’ve never seen her before. Unless she’s a colleague at work or—

“Emily, love.” He slides out of their booth and pulls me into his arms.

“Hi,” I say, confused. “I didn’t realize you were here all along. No one told me.”

“We thought we’d surprise you.”

We? They’re a we now?

“I don’t understand,” I admit to their beaming faces.

“We came by to see you for a few reasons. First, because the two most important women in my life are also two of the busiest people I know. Believe it or not, finding a day and time that you’re both in the same city has taken a lot of coordination.”

A tinge of jealousy sparks within me, but I’m at my place of work. The option to raise hell and demand an explanation at the top of my lungs isn’t on the table.

Two most important women.

Really?

I’ve heard the rumors that Dylan was a bit of a manwhore before he met me. It’s all over his social media too, but I was willing to look the other way because by all accounts, Dylan did a complete one hundred and eighty from his bad boy behavior when he met me. It’s never been an issue. The way I see it, everyone’s got a past. And Dylan has never given me a reason not to trust him.

But this? I wasn’t expecting this.

Two most important women. Being a sister wife isn’t in the cards for me.

“I’m confused,” I admit, my jaw tight as I work hard to control my responses.

“Emily, I want you to meet my little sister, Vanessa.”

“Oh! It’s lovely to finally meet you,” I say, my voice overflowing with excitement and a bit of relief as I reach across the table to shake her hand.

She stands and wraps her arms around me, hugging me warmly, as though we’re old friends. There are no air kisses like her mother gives out. “It’s great to finally meet the girl who managed to take my brother off the meat market.”

“I think I mentioned that Vanessa’s in law school,” Dylan explains.

“Congrats,” I tell her. “Following in your parents’ footsteps?”

She smiles. Looking at them as they stand side by side, I see the resemblance. “You could call it that. Practicing law is in our blood. Although, before this, I was on an environmental advocacy project. We can chat all about it. I’m in town all weekend if you’re free.”

“Definitely. Dylan, can you give her my number for us to set something up?”

“Sure thing.”

“Wait, were you here for dinner earlier? I’d love to prepare something for you both.”

“That’s not necessary. Actually…”

He pauses. My peripheral vision picks up the wait staff just standing there. Watching us. Then Blair emerges from his side office. And Patrick is leaning against his reception desk, looking our way.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“More than okay. I just wanted to say…”

Dylan takes a step back. A movement that includes going down on one knee.

“Oh my gosh!” I hear myself cry out.

He reaches into his pocket but comes up empty. “Uh, Vanessa.”

“Oh yes! Right!” She pulls out a ring box from her purse. “Sorry about that. I was admiring it all the way over here.”

Taking the ring box, he lifts it toward me and opens it to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.

I’m barely able to breathe as he removes it from the box and takes my left hand.

“We’re here in a place where you’re surrounded by family and friends you love and able to live your passion. I couldn’t think of a better place to tell you... Emily Fields, I love you. We haven’t been together for years and years, but the second I laid eyes on you, I knew we shared something special. Now, I can’t picture a life without you in it. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

My head bobs up and down, saying yes without words as my hands shake as much as my weak knees, and joyful tears I can’t control run down my face. “Oh my god, yes. I’ll marry you. I love you. I will. Oh my god, baby.”

Dylan slides the gold ring with its princess-cut solitaire diamond onto my finger. He gets to his feet and tugs me into his arms, smashing his lips to mine.

Vanessa rushes up to Dylan and me, wrapping her arms around us both. “Welcome to the family, Emily! I’m so excited for you both!”

“Thank you,” I say through my raspy voice.

“Oh, and Dylan, we’d better prepare her for Diane,” she muses lightly. “Once she gets word that you’re engaged, she’s liable to blindside you both about her God-awful prenup speech.”

“Let me handle Diane,” Dylan says. “The last thing I’m going to do is start the rest of my life with Emily by even looking at a document that’s all about preparing for what we have to end.”

Blair gives me a thumbs-up from his spot in the corner, his eyes glassy from where I’m standing. My heart feels so full of love now. I wish Mom, Grams and Joy could be here to share this with me, but Dylan’s right that this place, these people, they really are my family too.