her to know. We’ve been easing into conversations with our mom over the past few weeks to give her honest updates about our lives. It’s the only way for us all to truly move forward together, and while Matilda Stevens was furious on several accounts—that we’d reunited with our father, and that I was officially done with modeling for the agency in LA—she was beginning to accept that we’d made those choices for ourselves. One day we’ll have the conversation in person, just the three of us. But for now, we’re all moving forward.
Monica nods and pulls out her phone then scrolls to Mom’s number and dials it.
We step outside together and wish our mom a happy Thanksgiving together, tell her all is well with us, and promise her that we’ll visit her in California soon. She’s thrilled to hear updates about the television show and about Monica’s latest fashion design ventures. And in return, she brags about living the life of luxury with her boyfriend in LA.
When we’re done, we walk back into the kitchen to find Zach setting a humongous pastry box on one of the tables. Monica claps her hands together with excitement and happily skips over to her boyfriend. “Oh, I want to see what you brought.”
Zach grins and nods at the box. “Do the honors, Cakes.”
His nickname for Monica is so adorable and also appropriate considering my sister’s obsession with dessert, specifically chocolate-covered anything.
I walk over to stand with Desmond, who has his camera out to snap photos of the reveal.
Monica lifts the cover and sets it aside. Then she gets an eyeful of the cake. It’s chocolate with strawberries decorating the top, and underneath them is a message handwritten in icing.
Monica,
Will you marry me?
The look on my sister’s face is utterly priceless. Tears well up in my eyes all over again, and I cling to Desmond, needing something to support me while I watch Monica and Zach’s proposal play out in front of me.
Monica’s mouth opens wide from the shock and she turns to the man who was standing behind her a moment ago. Now he’s kneeling, and I swear he’s shaking.
“Monica Stevens, I’ve known you for years, adored you for just as long, and I’ve been crazy in love with you for the past year. There’s no other woman in the world I’d rather spend my life, or share my cake, with.” He laughs gently and then pulls out a black velvet box and opens it.
Monica’s hands fly to her mouth as she finally figures out that this is really happening.
Then Zach asks the question. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes! A million times yes.” She falls to her knees, throws her arms around him, and kisses him so hard that they both fall over laughing. He helps her up and places the gorgeous square-cut diamond on her finger, then they kiss again.
I’ve never been more moved in my life. Zach had warned Desmond and me about his plans, which is why Desmond was ready with his camera and I dragged Monica outside with me to call Mom when I did. Everything worked out better than we planned.
An hour later, the cake has been devoured, and the kitchen has been cleaned. One by one, our guests leave with their to-go boxes, until it’s just Desmond and me alone. He locks up while I run to his office for a quick minute to grab a present I made for him.
We meet back in the front of the room, and he pulls me onto the couch while eyeing the present in my hands. “What’s that?”
I bite down on my bottom lip. “Just something I’ve been working on for the past few weeks.” I swallow and search his eyes, finding the courage to say what I need to say. A lot has been going through my mind since we got back from Dallas and accepted the cooking show opportunity. Life has become a whirlwind, and this is my attempt at slowing things down, just for a second. “You inspired me to create something. Something I think you will love.”
Desmond stares at the package for a second and then starts to open the wrapping carefully, like he wants to preserve it as much as possible. He pulls out a thick hardback book. It’s titled Fake It Til You Bake It, and he just gives me an amused smile before he opens it and sees the dedication I wrote.
He starts to turn through the recipe book, page by page. His