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lightdancingwords · 5 days ago

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Crossroads of the Heart - Part Twenty-Seven of ?

Pairings: CJ Braxton x Y/N Female reader

Series Summary: Y/N is a psychology major assigned to shadow CJ at The Stand, unaware he's the one who basically saved her life four years before. CJ is unaware that she's the one who left a notable impact on him over the phone four years ago. As they navigate the work at The Stand, they develop a spark that demands revelation and connection.

Word Count: 7,157

Tags/Warnings: SO. MUCH. FLUFF! (and a touch of drama and angst)

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Dividers: credit to @saradika-graphics

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Proposal

The restaurant was quiet but comfortable—nothing fancy, just a clean little corner place known for strong coffee, fresh sandwiches, and a calm midday atmosphere.

CJ arrived a few minutes early, dressed neatly but not overdressed, just enough to be respectful. He was seated at a small table near the back when Henry Y/L/N arrived.

The older man looked about the same as CJ remembered from the gala—buttoned-up, composed, with that ever-present air of controlled authority.

They exchanged a firm handshake, and after a few minutes of settling in—menus, water, casual hellos—the first few minutes were filled with polite, surface-level talk.

Work. The weather. A brief shared chuckle over chaotic donors and budget talks.

But CJ didn’t drag it out. He hadn’t come here for small talk.

When the server had taken their orders and walked away, CJ leaned slightly forward, folding his hands on the table. His voice was calm. Measured.

“I want to make something clear,” he began. “I didn’t ask you here to ask permission. I’m not looking for approval, either.”

Henry met his gaze without flinching, but said nothing.

CJ continued, “I’m going to propose to your daughter. Because I love her. Because I respect her. Because I can’t imagine my life without her.”

There was a pause. Not tense, not cold—just still.

Henry nodded slowly, his expression unreadable at first. Then he leaned back in his chair, considering. “You didn’t have to tell me,” he said finally. “Not after everything. Not with what I said… and how I acted.”

“No,” CJ agreed. “I didn’t. But I wanted to. Because whether you’re close with her or not—whether she ever chooses to let you back into her life fully or not—she matters to me. And every part of her story matters. Including you.”

Henry looked down for a beat, then back up at CJ with a quiet breath.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he said. “I’ve spent years being too proud to admit how badly I handled things. And it cost me time with my daughter. But you telling me this… I respect it.”

CJ nodded, the words registering but not softening his edge. “I’m in this for the long haul. No conditions. No exit plan. I’m going to love her the rest of my life.”

Henry gave a slow, somber smile. “Then I’m grateful she has someone like you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was heavy with something understood, something acknowledged between two very different men.

Not a blessing. Not permission.

But mutual respect.

The rest of the meal continued on lighter terms, but the weight of that conversation lingered.

And when CJ stood to leave, he knew one thing for certain—

He was ready.

The bell above The Stand’s front door gave its familiar chime as CJ stepped inside, the late afternoon light casting golden rays across the floor.

Everything looked the same.

The front desk. The gentle murmur of conversations and phone calls. The quiet rhythm of the helpline carrying on.

And then—her.

Y/N.

Sitting at her desk, headset on, brows slightly furrowed in thought as she gently guided a caller through something hard. Her voice was calm, soothing—her hand moved slowly as she took notes, that same quiet focus she always had when she was completely immersed in someone else’s pain.

She was beautiful. So beautiful.

And in that moment, something hit CJ so hard in the chest that he had to stop walking.

The ring burned like a weight in his pocket.

He almost did it—right there in the middle of the floor. No candles, no plans, no speeches. Just her, doing what she did best. Being good. Being strong. Being the reason he believed in everything again.

His mouth even opened—just slightly—his fingers twitching in his coat pocket.

But then Y/N glanced up and gave him a smile. A quiet, soft one. One that said, Hi. I see you.

It made him freeze all over again.

No. Not like this.

Not rushed. Not public. Not this moment.

Because she deserved better than a decision born from impulse and awe.

She deserved something intentional.

CJ turned on his heel and briskly walked the rest of the way down the hall, almost fumbling with the office doorknob. He shut the door behind him—quietly—and pressed his back to it, his heart hammering in his chest.

He let out a sharp breath, one hand dragging through his hair, the other still pressed over the place where the ring was hidden.

“Nerves,” he muttered to himself. “That’s all it is.”

But it wasn’t.

It was love.

And it was nearly too much.

CJ walked to his desk, sat down heavily, and let the feelings roll through him.

He was more than nervous.

He was ready.

Maybe not today. Maybe not this hour.

But soon.

And when the time came, he’d make it perfect. For her. For them.

A light knock on the office door broke CJ from his thoughts. He sat up quickly, dragging a steadying hand down his face just as the door cracked open.

Priya peeked her head in, brows lifted with gentle concern. “Hey… you alright?”

CJ exhaled, waving her in. “Yeah. Kinda.”

She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, giving him that look—the one that said she already knew something was up and she’d wait as long as it took for him to spill it.

CJ leaned back in his chair and let out a breath that sounded closer to a laugh than a sigh. “I almost did it.”

Priya blinked. “Did it…?” Then her eyes widened. “Wait. You almost proposed?”

He nodded slowly, dragging his hand through his hair again. “Right there. In the middle of the floor. She was on a call—just doing what she does. Soft voice, calm presence, all heart. And I just stood there looking at her and I almost pulled the ring out of my pocket.”

Priya sat in the chair across from his desk, amused but clearly intrigued. “Why didn’t you?”

CJ’s smile was faint, almost self-conscious. “Because she deserves more than almost. She deserves more than a spontaneous burst of emotion. I want to give her something intentional. Something that reflects what she means to me.”

Priya’s expression softened. “That’s why she loves you, you know.”

He glanced at her. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Because even when you’re overwhelmed by how much she means to you… you still put her first. Even in the moment you want to act most on instinct.”

CJ leaned forward, elbows on the desk, resting his chin in his hand. “It’s like it’s building inside me. Every second I don’t ask her feels like I’m barely keeping it together.”

Priya smiled. “That’s called being completely in love.”

CJ chuckled softly. “Dangerous condition.”

“Mm,” she said, rising from her seat. “Terminal, if you’re lucky.”

She gave him a wink on the way out, her tone light but her support unmistakable.

CJ sat back again, staring at the ceiling.

Almost had been too close.

But when the time came…

It wouldn’t be almost.

It would be everything.

CJ knew himself well enough to recognize when his emotions threatened to steer the ship.

And right now? They were loud.

Louder than the ring tucked away in his locked drawer. Louder than the pulse he felt every time Y/N looked up from her calls and smiled at him.

But CJ was nothing if not disciplined when it counted.

So he forced himself to refocus.

The Stand needed managing. Volunteers had questions. The budget still wasn’t final. A new call routing system was still halfway through testing, and the grant reporting deadline was looming.

He shifted back into the rhythm of his work, the familiar pattern of leading quietly but efficiently. When Priya flagged him for a staffing update, he nodded and reviewed the schedule. When Miles asked about the security logs, CJ answered without hesitation.

And yet…

Every so often, his gaze drifted.

To her.

To Y/N.

She was in her element—headset on, voice calm, presence steady. The curve of her lips when she nodded softly. The way she made space for pain and didn’t flinch from it.

He didn’t hear the words, but he saw her.

Being who she was.

The kind of woman who didn’t just change lives—she anchored them.

Including his.

CJ caught himself watching, heart swelling, and quickly looked back at his screen.

Not now.

But soon.

For now, he’d manage The Stand.

He’d manage his breath.

And he’d manage this love like he always had—with reverence, patience… and the quiet certainty that the moment was coming.

And when it did?

He’d be ready.

The late evening air was cool as CJ and Y/N stepped out of The Stand, the city humming quietly around them. They walked side by side toward the car, not in any rush, their hands brushing before her fingers laced with his.

CJ glanced over at her and caught the pensive look on her face—the kind of thoughtful quiet that said something had been on her mind all day.

She looked up at him just before they reached the car, her voice soft. “Did you… see him today?”

CJ didn’t ask who. He knew. And the way she said him—carefully, quietly—made his chest tighten just a little.

“Yeah,” CJ said, equally soft as he opened the car door for her. “I saw your dad.”

Y/N paused mid-step, hand on the door, but she didn’t get in right away. She turned toward him, searching his face.

“And?” she asked, voice barely louder than a whisper. “How was it?”

CJ met her eyes, steady and open. “It went well.”

That was the truth. No sugar-coating, no over-explaining.

Y/N’s fingers curled slightly against the doorframe. “Can I… know more?”

CJ hesitated.

He wanted to tell her everything. Wanted to pour it all out—how Henry had listened, how CJ had spoken from the heart, how it wasn’t about permission but about presence.

But not yet.

His eyes softened, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not yet,” he said gently. “But soon. I promise.”

She looked at him for a long moment. Not angry. Not hurt. Just curious, and maybe a little uncertain.

But then she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She trusted him. Still.

CJ leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.”

They got in the car, the silence between them comfortable again, filled with the quiet weight of love and something on the horizon neither had named aloud just yet.

But it was coming.

And when it did, everything would change.

The hum of the car rolled beneath them, headlights stretching along the quiet road.

CJ drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting palm-up between them on the center console, open in silent invitation.

Y/N reached for it.

Her fingers slid into his, gentle, certain, like they’d been made to fit.

The city lights blurred past, and for a while, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t tense—it was thoughtful, warm. The kind of quiet that came after something unspoken had been respected.

Then, as the turn toward their street approached, Y/N shifted in her seat.

She leaned across the console, her head coming to rest against CJ’s shoulder, her body curling just slightly toward him. Her fingers squeezed his hand once.

And then—soft as breath, full of trembling emotion—she whispered:

“I love you.”

CJ’s heart clenched.

Not from fear. Not from uncertainty.

But from the depth of it.

Because she hadn’t just said it in a moment of laughter or intimacy.

She said it now.

After asking about her father. After learning CJ had met with the man who’d caused so much of her pain. After CJ had said he couldn’t tell her everything—not yet.

She still leaned into him. She still said those three words.

Because she trusted him.

Trusted that he wouldn't hurt her again. Trusted that whatever he was holding back—it wasn’t a betrayal. It was a promise waiting to unfold.

CJ blinked hard, his chest tight. He turned his head just enough to brush a kiss to her hair, his voice low, barely steady. “I love you too,” he whispered. “So damn much.”

And as they pulled onto their street, his hand still holding hers, CJ knew this wasn’t just about what came next.

It was about this.

The quiet knowing. The wordless forgiveness. The trust rebuilt.

The life they were building.

One mile. One day. One heartbeat at a time.

The soft rumble of the engine filled the quiet as CJ eased the car into its spot in front of their apartment building.

He shifted into park, but didn’t move.

Neither did Y/N.

The headlights lit up the stone wall ahead of them, the warm glow barely reaching beyond the windshield. Inside the car, though, it was still. Gentle.

CJ sat with one hand still on the wheel, the other still holding hers. The moment didn’t demand words, but the weight of it—of everything they’d shared that day, spoken and unspoken—settled over him like a blanket.

She had leaned into him. She had said I love you. And she meant it. Even after the past. Even with the unknown. Even still.

He turned toward her slowly, watching the way her face glowed faintly in the light from the dashboard. Her eyes were half-closed, her expression peaceful, but he could tell she was still quietly thinking—still feeling.

“Tomorrow,” CJ said gently, his voice low, “it’s Saturday.”

Y/N looked up at him, a question already in her eyes.

He gave her a small, warm smile. “Let’s make it just us. All day. Anything you want. Anything you need.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. She just looked at him.

Then she leaned in, pressing her forehead softly against his temple.

“Just love me,” she whispered.

CJ’s eyes closed.

God. She didn’t even know how easy that was. How natural. How already done.

He turned his head and kissed her temple gently, murmuring, “Always.”

They sat there a little longer, wrapped in that quiet promise, before finally slipping out of the car, fingers still laced.

Tomorrow was hers. And loving her? He’d do it without question. Without limits. And with everything he had.

Saturday rose slow and golden, spilling warm light through the bedroom blinds as CJ blinked awake to the feel of Y/N curled into his side, still deep in sleep.

Her breath was soft against his chest, her hand loosely tucked beneath her chin. He didn’t move right away. Instead, he just watched her—memorizing every detail in the quiet hush of morning.

This was her day. And loving her meant honoring it in every way she needed.

He started with breakfast.

While Y/N still slept, CJ slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. He made her favorite—vanilla pancakes with cinnamon whipped cream, a side of crisp bacon, and her preferred tea steeped just right.

When she finally stirred, eyes heavy with sleep and hair adorably tousled, he greeted her with a warm smile and a softly murmured, “Morning, love.”

Y/N blinked, then grinned as she took in the sight of the tray in his hands. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” CJ said simply, setting the tray across her lap and brushing a kiss to her temple. “Today’s yours.”

They ate in bed, wrapped in blankets, with soft music playing low from the speaker on the nightstand. CJ let her talk about anything and everything, from her favorite moments from the week to a dream she barely remembered. He listened, really listened, his thumb brushing gently over the back of her hand the entire time.

Later, he ran them a bath.

No fanfare, no over-the-top gestures—just warm water, quiet candles, and lavender bubbles because she always found them calming. He didn’t rush her. Instead, he sat nearby, reading while she soaked, occasionally reaching out to run his fingers through her hair or trace small patterns along her arm when she leaned toward him.

They went for a walk that afternoon—Y/N’s idea—and CJ followed her pace, stopping at every bench she wanted to rest on, pointing out the way the breeze caught the petals of early spring flowers.

He bought her a soft scarf from a vendor because she said she liked the color.

They stopped for ice cream—her favorite flavor. They browsed a used bookstore where he found a poetry collection he thought she’d like.

He didn’t ask her questions about the letter. He didn’t mention her father. He didn’t bring up work. He just loved her. In every word. Every kiss to her temple. Every moment he reached for her hand without saying anything at all.

That evening, curled up on the couch, Y/N turned her head and looked at him with something tender and wondering in her eyes.

“You’ve been quiet today,” she said. “But… you’ve never felt louder to me.”

CJ smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I just wanted to show you what it feels like to be loved by someone who never plans to stop.”

She leaned into him then, her arms wrapping around his middle, and stayed there for a long, long while.

And CJ held her—knowing, without question, that this was the best day he’d had in a long time.

Because it was hers. And she was his.

Sunday arrived with a peaceful stillness.

Y/N had curled into a blanket on the couch with her laptop, headphones half-on, typing steadily as the hum of her playlist blended into the soft clicks of the keys. She was deep in writing mode—eyes slightly narrowed in concentration, her brow furrowed just so.

CJ stood in the kitchen, watching her with the kind of affection that warmed every part of him. Then he turned back to his tablet, where a very different kind of work waited.

Proposal prep.

While she wrote, he schemed.

Everything had to be quiet. Discreet. Seamless.

He scrolled through the candle options he’d bookmarked, choosing soft ivory ones—unscented, long-lasting, elegant in a way that didn’t scream overdone. He made sure to get enough to gently illuminate the small meeting room at The Stand, the space he’d unofficially decided would hold their moment.

Not flashy. But intentional.

CJ placed the order, selecting rush delivery just to be safe.

Next came the scheduling.

He opened the staff rotation calendar and began subtly shifting time blocks. Nothing obvious. Nothing that would raise questions. Just enough to ensure Y/N would have a free hour mid-week—an hour that lined up with the candle delivery and his carefully built plan.

He moved himself out of meetings, restructured some training slots, and left notes for Priya and Miles with minimal context but clear instructions.

They’d help. They knew.

He even made a mental checklist: – Candles: ordered. – Room: unofficially reserved. – Staff coverage: adjusted. – Ring: ready.

And Y/N?

Still writing. Still focused. Still unaware.

CJ glanced up from his tablet and smiled as he caught her chewing the edge of her pen in thought, her eyes dancing with some idea she hadn’t yet put to words.

She had no idea what was coming.

But he did.

And it would be everything.

Monday morning came with its usual rhythm—cool air, warm coffee in hand, and the soft hum of the city just waking up.

CJ and Y/N walked into The Stand side by side, shoulders brushing. The building welcomed them with familiar sounds—the low murmur of early morning calls, the shuffle of volunteers settling in, and the comforting scent of brewing coffee from the break room.

CJ didn’t rush.

He walked her all the way to her desk like he always did, and just before she sat, he dipped down and pressed a kiss to her cheek—gentle, warm, lingering just a little longer than usual.

Y/N smiled up at him, her voice soft. “Have a good morning.”

“You too,” CJ murmured, giving her hand one last squeeze before he turned and made his way to his office.

The moment he stepped inside and shut the door, Priya was already waiting—clipboard in hand, one eyebrow slightly arched.

“You moved your meeting with the donor,” she said without preamble, stepping forward as CJ rounded his desk.

“I did,” CJ replied calmly, settling into his chair. “I shuffled a few things around.”

Priya gave him a long look. “I read the full email, CJ. All the notes.” She tapped the clipboard. “Y/N off phones Friday for one hour. Miles covering your admin slot. Gabby pulling double in the call queue.”

CJ leaned back, his expression unreadable—except for the faint, unmistakable twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Priya’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Friday, isn’t it?”

CJ didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.

He just gave her a single, quiet nod.

Priya exhaled softly, a slow smile blooming across her face. “You’re really going to do it.”

CJ looked down at his folded hands for a moment, then back up. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

She nodded, almost proud. “About damn time.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Just needed everything to feel right.”

Priya took a seat across from him, her tone suddenly gentler. “It does, doesn’t it? Feel right?”

CJ’s green eyes softened, gaze drifting toward the wall—toward the thought of Y/N sitting out there on the call floor, completely unaware of how close they were to everything changing.

“More than anything ever has,” he said quietly.

Priya smiled again and stood. “Then let’s make sure it’s perfect.”

CJ nodded, heart steady. “Yeah. Let’s.”

Friday was coming. And with it, a promise.

CJ glanced at the time on his computer screen—12:17 p.m.

He sighed, already three messages deep into a tense email thread with a major donor who had suddenly decided to reconsider the conditions of their funding. One vague concern had spiraled into a potential withdrawal, and now CJ was in damage control mode.

His phone buzzed on the desk beside him. He reached for it and thumbed out a quick message.

CJ: I’m so sorry, love. I have to work through lunch. Donor drama. I’ll make it up to you tonight. Promise. ❤️

He stared at the message a second longer, then hit send and tossed the phone gently onto the desk. His lunch plans with Y/N had been something small—just the two of them in the break room, a quiet corner together like always—but still, it mattered. And he hated missing it.

Across the building, Y/N felt her phone buzz against her leg. She read the message, smiled faintly, and tapped out a reply.

Y/N: It’s okay. I understand. ❤️ I’ll grab Gabby and make it a girl’s lunch.

A moment later, she poked her head into the call floor where Gabby was sipping lukewarm tea and flipping through call logs between shifts.

“Wanna have lunch with me?” Y/N asked.

Gabby blinked, then perked up. “What, no CJ today? What did he do?”

Y/N laughed softly. “Nothing terrible. Donor issue. He’s stuck in his office.”

Gabby clutched her heart dramatically. “Tragic. Come on, let’s go scavenge something from the fridge before Miles eats all the good leftovers again.”

As they walked toward the break room, Gabby glanced sideways at her. “You okay, though?”

Y/N smiled. “Yeah. Just means I get to hang out with you.”

Gabby bumped her shoulder gently. “Awww. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

And though CJ was swamped in stress and negotiation, Y/N’s afternoon carried on with warmth and company—just as he would’ve wanted for her.

Even apart, they were still connected.

And soon, very soon, they’d be more than that.

The break room carried the familiar scent of coffee and leftover takeout, the hum of the refrigerator the only background noise as Y/N and Gabby sat at the small round table near the back.

Gabby, predictably, was already halfway through rifling through the communal fridge with a running commentary.

“No one ever labels their food in here. It's chaos, pure chaos. Is this soup yours? I’m stealing it if you don’t claim it in the next three seconds—”

Y/N chuckled. “It’s not mine. Help yourself.”

Gabby grinned triumphantly, grabbed the container, and popped it into the microwave before flopping into the seat across from her. “You, my friend, are a lifesaver. And now that I’ve been fed and semi-sane… how are you doing?”

Y/N poked at her salad for a beat. “I’m… okay. Just been thinking about something CJ told me.”

Gabby perked up immediately. “Oh? What’s he done now? Please tell me he’s planning something romantic. That man gets all intense when he’s planning something.”

Y/N gave her a curious look. “He had lunch with my dad.”

Gabby blinked. “Henry?”

Y/N nodded, eyes lowered. “Yeah. Friday. I asked him about it last night.”

“And he just… told you?”

Y/N gave a half shrug. “I asked. He was honest. Said it went well, but when I asked for details… he said not yet. That he’d tell me when he could.”

Gabby was silent for a second too long.

“Gabby?”

“I’m listening!” she said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Just… surprised. That’s big. Especially considering how the last time went.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Yeah. And there’s something else.” She set down her fork. “CJ said it wasn’t about permission. And that stuck with me. I didn’t ask for clarification in the moment, but now I can’t stop wondering. Permission for what?”

Gabby’s mouth opened… then closed.

She forced a smile. “You know CJ. He says stuff like that. Mr. Thoughtful and Mysterious.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Gabby laughed, though it was a little too high-pitched. “Am not. I’m an excellent liar. You just happen to be scary observant.”

Y/N leaned back, arms crossed loosely. “So if there was something going on…”

Gabby raised her hands in surrender. “Hey. If there was—hypothetically—it would be something good. Something meaningful. CJ isn’t the type to go behind your back with anything unless he had a good reason. You know that.”

Y/N softened a little at that. “Yeah. I know.”

Gabby smiled, more genuine now. “If you’re patient with him… I think whatever he’s planning will be worth it.”

Y/N smiled faintly, gaze drifting toward the door as if she could somehow see CJ down the hall. “He asked me to trust him.”

“And you do,” Gabby said gently. “Right?”

Y/N nodded. “With everything.”

Gabby’s grin widened, but she said nothing more.

Because if everything went to plan… By Friday, she wouldn’t have to keep the secret anymore.

Y/N let the silence linger between them for a moment, fingers lightly drumming her fork against the side of her container. The look on Gabby’s face—playful on the surface but guarded underneath—told her not to push any more about CJ.

So she didn’t.

Instead, she shifted gears with a soft smile. “Alright. Your turn.”

Gabby blinked. “My turn for what?”

Y/N tilted her head, a little grin playing on her lips. “To talk about you. What’s going on with you and Miles?”

At that, Gabby paused. Not dramatically. Not with her usual flailing hands or dramatic gasps. Just… paused.

And then, for once, her voice was quiet.

“It’s… going well.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the serious tone. “Yeah?”

Gabby nodded, eyes not quite meeting hers yet. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like fireworks and rose petals and candlelit picnics—he’s still Miles, you know? But it’s something.”

She toyed with the edge of her soup lid before continuing. “We’re really different. Like, really different. He’s grumpy. I’m loud. He thinks three steps ahead of every move. I make decisions based on vibes and snack availability.”

Y/N laughed, but Gabby’s expression stayed soft.

“But still…” she went on, “it works. Somehow. He listens to me when I need it. And when he lets his guard down, he’s actually kind of… sweet. In his own awkward, emotionally constipated way.”

Y/N smiled gently. “That’s kind of perfect, honestly.”

Gabby gave a small, breathy laugh. ��Yeah. I think so too.”

There was something in her voice that Y/N hadn’t heard before—something a little raw, a little vulnerable.

“I’ve never had something like this,” Gabby admitted. “It’s slow. And quiet. But every time he pulls me close, or says something thoughtful that sounds like it was dragged out of him with pliers… I feel safe. Like it’s real.”

Y/N’s heart warmed at the honesty. “I’m really happy for you.”

Gabby finally looked up at her, the grin returning, though softer this time. “Thanks. I don’t know where it’s going yet. But I want to keep finding out.”

And for once, Y/N didn’t need to ask anything else.

Because sometimes, that kind of love—the slow, strange, unshiny kind—was the kind that lasted.

They lingered a few extra minutes past the normal lunch rhythm, letting the quiet settle between them after the conversation about Miles. Y/N leaned back in her chair, still sipping the last of her tea, while Gabby stared absently at her half-empty container.

Then, without preamble, Gabby spoke again—her tone thoughtful, almost abrupt in contrast to the silence.

“Miles isn’t like CJ.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Gabby looked over at her, more grounded than usual, her usual spark tempered by something real. “I mean it. They’re different. Miles is—he’s great, okay, but he’s a little… closed off. He’s figuring things out as he goes.” She paused. “But CJ? He’s not guessing. He knows. He’s steady. He doesn’t fumble with his feelings or keep you wondering.”

Y/N was quiet, taken aback by the weight of the statement.

“I watch him with you,” Gabby continued. “It’s just there. No hesitation. No second-guessing. The way he looks at you? The way he checks on you even when he’s pretending to be buried in admin work? That man loves you. Full stop.”

Y/N felt her breath catch.

She hadn’t expected that. Not from Gabby. Not now.

But the truth of it landed deep.

Because it was true.

From the moment CJ made his feelings known, it had never wavered. Never once had she questioned if he was in this with her, if his love was real, if it might fade.

CJ was constant. Reliable. Soft when it mattered, firm when she needed him to be, and always—always—there.

Y/N smiled, her voice low and warm. “Yeah. He’s just… always been there. Even when I didn’t realize how much I needed him. Once I knew… I always knew.”

Gabby grinned, her usual mischief returning in her eyes. “He’s your green-eyed golden retriever. Emotionally stable. Quietly in love. An endangered species.”

Y/N laughed, but her hand subconsciously brushed over her heart.

“I never want to take that for granted,” she said softly. “Not for a second.”

Gabby nodded, then stood and stretched. “Then don’t.”

And as they left the break room, the last few words lingered in Y/N’s chest—quiet but sure, like the man waiting for her down the hall.

Thursday evening settled gently over The Stand, the soft hum of voices and phones beginning to taper as shifts neared their end.

In CJ’s office, the door was closed but not locked, his desk cluttered with notes he wasn’t really reading. His mind had long since stopped focusing on emails and donor numbers. It was somewhere else—somewhere just one day ahead.

A quiet knock pulled him back.

“Come in,” he called.

The door creaked open and both Priya and Gabby stepped inside, exchanging a glance before Gabby gently shut the door behind them.

CJ arched a brow, though amusement was already tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is this an ambush?”

“Sort of,” Priya said, arms folded with a small smile. “We figured you might need a check-in. Or an intervention.”

Gabby flopped dramatically into the chair across from his desk. “Or someone to talk you out of spontaneously combusting tomorrow.”

CJ chuckled under his breath and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… I’m ready. I think. Just a nervous wreck about it.”

Priya moved to stand beside the desk, her expression softening. “You’ve done the work. You’ve done more than most.”

CJ nodded, gesturing vaguely behind him toward the small cabinet near the wall. “The candles are all hidden in there. I triple-checked the delivery.”

Gabby perked up. “And the playlist?”

He pulled out his phone and showed them the prepped Spotify queue. “Soft. Not cheesy. Familiar enough that it won’t distract her, but still meaningful.”

Priya grinned. “Of course it’s curated.”

CJ chuckled again and glanced at the stack of papers he’d been pretending to work on. “The schedule’s solid. Y/N’s coverage window is clean, no calls during that hour. Everyone else is helping to clear the space just before. I even added a note for Miles to ‘accidentally’ glitch the lights for a second to stall her if she gets curious too early.”

Gabby beamed, bouncing lightly in her chair. “You’ve literally thought of everything. The only thing left—”

CJ nodded, smile fading slightly, replaced with something quieter, deeper. “Is asking her.”

The room fell into a peaceful stillness.

“You love her,” Priya said, not as a question, but a truth.

“With everything I have,” CJ murmured. “She saved me. And she doesn’t even realize it.”

Gabby smiled, a little misty-eyed. “You’re gonna do great, boss.”

He looked at both of them, grateful. “Thank you. For helping me get to this point.”

Gabby sniffled playfully. “Ugh, stop being sweet or I’m going to cry before the proposal even happens.”

CJ laughed—and for the first time all day, the nerves felt just a little bit lighter.

Tomorrow was the day.

And ready or not…

He was going to change their lives forever.

CJ Braxton prided himself on structure.

He was never late. He was always composed. And he definitely didn’t oversleep—Except for the one day in his life when it absolutely mattered. The morning of the proposal. Friday.

It began with a jolt.

CJ shot upright in bed, eyes wild, heart hammering, and immediately reached for his phone—Which was dark. Dead. Silent. He turned toward the clock on Y/N’s side of the bed, blinking at the time.

8:07 a.m.

“Oh no,” he muttered. “No no no—”

Beside him, Y/N stirred with a groggy, confused hum. “What’s happening?”

“We’re late,” CJ said, already throwing back the covers. “My phone died. We overslept. We should’ve been out the door twenty minutes ago.”

Y/N sat up, hair a sleep-tousled mess, blinking at the same clock. “Oh.”

They scrambled. There was no time for breakfast. No time for his usual smoothie or her quick tea. CJ’s shirt—his carefully chosen, clean, pressed proposal day shirt—was crumpled on the floor with a faint coffee stain from yesterday of all things. He reached for a backup. Wrinkled. The next one—missing a button. He finally settled on a plain charcoal shirt, buttoned it halfway, realized he forgot deodorant, muttered something unintelligible, and ran back into the bathroom.

Y/N, still pulling her sweater over her head, paused long enough to watch him nearly knock over the towel rack in his hurry.

“Is this karma?” she asked, deadpan.

“It’s a test,” CJ huffed, his hair refusing to lay flat. “I’m being tested.”

By the time they got out the door, they were ten minutes behind schedule. The car ride was filled with mild cursing, rushed apologies, and Y/N laughing softly every time CJ hit a red light and whispered, “Of course.”

When they arrived at The Stand, it was a whirlwind. Priya spotted them coming in and blinked like she’d seen a ghost.

“You’re late,” she said slowly, brows raised. “You. Both of you.”

“It’s fine,” CJ said, smoothing his shirt as if that would erase the chaos of the last hour. “We’re fine.”

Priya stared at him for a long beat. “You okay?”

He exhaled and murmured, “Ask me after 5 p.m.”

The day… didn’t immediately get better.

The printer jammed. The wrong volunteer showed up for the wrong training shift. Gabby nearly tripped over the box of proposal candles CJ had tucked behind a row of binders in his office. Miles forgot his own schedule and interrupted CJ twice with complaints about a bug that turned out to be user error.

But through it all—every minor disaster, every sigh, every close call—CJ kept his head just above water with one thought steady in his mind:

Tonight.

Y/N was radiant at her desk, headphones on, voice calm and collected, completely unaware that her morning chaos would be the footnote to a day meant for forever.

And maybe… maybe that was why the morning didn’t break him. Because even when everything went wrong—

She was still right there. And he was still going to ask.

Soon.

If CJ thought the morning had been a trainwreck, the afternoon came in swinging like a wrecking ball with no brakes.

By 1:00 p.m., The Stand was a hive of controlled chaos. Except... not very controlled.

A fire inspection notice he’d forgotten about resurfaced with an unexpected drop-in. The server used for internal shift scheduling randomly rebooted itself mid-update. One of the scented candles for the proposal plan had mysteriously vanished—only for Gabby to find it near the breakroom microwave with a sticky note that said “smells like sugar cookies. I needed this.” No one confessed. CJ suspected Miles.

On top of that, someone—probably by accident—overbooked the very room CJ had planned for the proposal, and he had to pull a quiet string or two to re-clear it without tipping Y/N off.

By 3:00 p.m., he was standing in his office, staring at the corner where the candles were stashed, his hands on his hips and his jaw clenched so tightly his molars ached.

This was supposed to be perfect. Clean. Seamless. Instead, he was sweaty, undercaffeinated, half-losing his voice from speaking too fast all day, and had gone from calm confidence to the emotional equivalent of a squirrel dodging traffic.

Gabby poked her head in just after 4:00. “You okay?” she asked, cautiously.

CJ turned slowly to face her. “Define okay.”

She winced. “That bad?”

“I almost proposed in the breakroom out of sheer panic.”

Gabby snorted. “Don’t do that. Please. There are old granola bars in there that might actually kill the mood.”

He collapsed into his chair and ran both hands over his face. “Why is everything going wrong today? Every. Damn. Thing.”

Gabby stepped into the office and shut the door behind her. “Because it’s important. And sometimes, the universe throws crap at you just to see if you’ll still follow through.”

CJ sighed into his palms. “I’m a wreck.”

“You’re in love,” she corrected gently. “And you’ve still got everything ready. You’ve got the candles, the music, the schedule. Y/N has no idea. Which means it’s working.”

He looked up, his green eyes filled with tension, nerves, hope.

She smiled. “Just breathe, CJ. You’ve made it this far. Don’t let the chaos trick you into thinking it’s not worth it.”

The clock ticked to 4:47.

Thirteen minutes.

Gabby quietly left the room. CJ stood, heart hammering, and walked over to the drawer. He pulled out the ring. The same one he had carefully chosen. The snowflake design catching the light just so.

This was it.

No matter what went wrong today— No matter how wildly the universe had tried to throw him off— In just a few minutes…

Everything was about to go right.

The moment had finally come.

CJ stood alone in the softly lit room just off the main corridor of The Stand, the very room that had seen board meetings, training sessions, and too many volunteer introductions to count. But not tonight.

Tonight, it was theirs.

The candles flickered gently, lined along the window sills, casting golden pools of light over the space. He'd arranged the chairs into a small semicircle off to one side, leaving the center of the room open. A single table in the corner held his phone, already connected to a portable speaker.

He tapped the playlist.

Soft music spilled into the space. Warm. Familiar. Thoughtful.

His heart thundered.

CJ reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone once more, typing a simple text and sending it before he could overthink it:

CJ: Hey love. Can you meet me in the small meeting room? Just for a minute.

Then, he slipped the phone away, fingers brushing over the ring box in his pocket.

He paced once. Twice. Stopped. Breathed.

Footsteps came down the hallway a moment later, slow, uncertain.

The door cracked open.

Y/N stepped inside, her expression shifting immediately from confusion to something soft and stunned as her eyes swept the candlelit room.

“CJ…?” she asked quietly, taking a step forward.

He smiled.

“You came.”

“I… of course I did. What is this?”

He didn’t speak at first. He walked toward her, took her hand in his, and gently brought her to the center of the room. The soft melody played in the background, wrapping around them.

He stopped in front of her, holding both of her hands now, and took a breath that felt like it came from the deepest part of him.

“Do you remember,” he said softly, “the first night you ever called The Stand?”

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting.

“I didn’t know your name. I didn’t know who you were. But even then—your voice, your words, the way you were fighting so hard just to breathe through it… I knew you mattered.”

His voice wavered, but his hands didn’t.

“I didn’t realize back then that I’d end up falling for that same voice. That same heart. That the woman on the other end of the line would become the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes, her grip tightening.

“I’ve loved you quietly. Fiercely. Every single day since I realized it was you. And I know there’s been pain. I know there’s been healing. But I want to be the one who walks beside you through everything that comes next.”

He slowly lowered himself to one knee, never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t need permission. I don’t need perfect timing. I only need you.”

From his pocket, he pulled the small velvet box and opened it.

The snowflake ring caught the candlelight, glittering delicately—just like the pendant she wore, just like the poem she once wrote.

“Y/N,” CJ whispered, voice thick, reverent, “will you marry me?”

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