Beau stops digging and pulls out his fork. He stuffs the lump of frosting into his mouth but doesn’t swallow. A second later, he removes a piece of metal smudged with frosting. I’m mortified. This kitchen was supposed to keep things safe, but something must have come loose in the oven and fallen into the cake.
I swivel and yell above the din of the crowd. “There’s something in the cake. A screw or bolt. Something from the oven.”
All eyes turn toward me as one person after another lowers their fork. Worried stares morph into amused grins. I’m confused and don’t understand.
“Eisley Holland.” Beau’s deep voice comes from behind me. I turn to find him perched on one knee with a frosting-smudged ring in his outstretched hand. “You make my life colorful and full. Everything looks better, feels better, and tastes better with you around. You’re the yin to my yang, the frosting to my cake.” Will you marry me?”
My hands tremble, and realization hits me hard with a burst of crazy emotions. I’m stunned and overjoyed.
“Yes. Yes.” My head bobs, and the crowd erupts with applause and whistles.
Beau’s eyes crinkle at the corners as his smile widens. He brushes cake from my palm and slides the ring over my frosting-covered finger.
“This wasn’t supposed to be so dramatic, but I’m a bull in a china shop.” He grins, and I can’t resist kissing his beautiful, puckered lips. “Hope and Sage helped with the cake.”
“We didn’t know about the strawberry filling.” Sage shrugs her shoulders. “We saved the original layer in the freezer.”
“This is perfect.” I grab Beau’s cheeks, smearing frosting and cake across his jaw. He doesn’t so much as blink at the sticky mess. We both burst into laughter as I pull him to me for a big, wet, sloppy, sugar-coated kiss.
By this time next year, I’ll be a bride, a wife, and maybe someday a mom.
***
