Page 22 of The Proposal Planner (Ever After #2)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MASON

Three hours later, the pristine order of my loft is gone. Maddy has transformed my sterile workspace into what she cheerfully calls "a system," which is basically a tornado touchdown in office form.

Papers are fanned out across the bear rug in patterns she alone seems to understand, empty cookie boxes double as paperweights, and my mahogany desk is now a riot of neon sticky notes that looks like it lost a fight with a stationery aisle.

She's magnificent in her element. Hair escaping from her ponytail, a chocolate smudge on her cheek, gesturing wildly as she explains her vision for what she's dubbed "River Bend Builds, A Community Festival.

" Watching her work is like witnessing a master artist at her easel, every chaotic stroke deliberate, every scattered idea part of a larger masterpiece I'm beginning to comprehend.

"So we frame it as celebrating what River Bend is building," she says, sprawled on her stomach across the rug, chin propped on her hands. "New businesses, new families, new dreams. The Morrison Center becomes the crown jewel of that narrative, not some risky investment that needs defending."

I lean back against my desk, marveling at how she’s managed to reshape Richard’s attack. Where I saw nothing but legal strategy and damage control, she sees story and community and hope.

"And you think people will come?"

"Mason." She sits up, fixing me with a look that's part amusement, part exasperation. "This is River Bend. The entire town will show up to critique Mrs. Patterson's hat and pretend it's about civic duty."

Despite everything, Richard's threats, the legal papers sitting like landmines on my desk, I laugh. A real laugh, the kind that starts low and unfamiliar, like rediscovering an old song I didn't know I'd missed.

"You have a point," I say.

"I always have a point," Maddy replies, grinning. "The question is whether you're ready to trust me with yours."

Her phone buzzes, and she glances at the screen with a mix of anticipation and dread. "Ooh. It's a last-minute consult. Jake Sommers. He wants to propose this weekend and needs help pulling it off." She looks up. "Think you can handle watching a master at work?"

"Is that an invitation to observe your process?"

"Consider it your behind-the-scenes pass to Ever After magic." She grabs her jacket. "Fair warning though, proposal planning can get ... unpredictable."

An hour later, I understand what she meant.

Jake sits at the consultation table when we come downstairs, scrolling through a Pinterest board, his focus locked in like mission control on launch day.

"She hates attention," he says as Maddy settles in. "But I ... I want it to be special. Big. Not tacky, but ... unforgettable. You know?"

Maddy nods, thoughtful. "And you're proposing Friday at River Bend Park?"

"Yeah. Sunset. It means a lot to us. I don't want her to feel like I ignored who she is, but I also want the moment to be ... a story."

Maddy's face lights up. "Got it."

She leans forward, all in now. "Picture this.

You and Emma walking the trail at golden hour.

Casual, no pressure. A stroll. She thinks you're watching the sunset, but what she doesn't know is I've positioned discreet photographers nearby, hidden in plain sight.

Friends pretending to be dog walkers. Nobody drawing attention. "

Jake perks up, interest fully caught.

"At the overlook," she continues, "beneath that old oak tree, you drop to one knee.

She's caught off guard, it's intimate, real.

The moment is yours. And yet, we still get the full sweep of that golden light, the emotion, the exact moment she says yes, captured from multiple angles without disrupting the privacy. "

Jake stares at her like she's a magician. "Can you pull that off?"

Maddy's making notes. "Yes. I'll handle everything, timing, light, placement, even backup plans if the weather turns. All you have to do is show up and mean it."

They wrap twenty minutes later, Jake leaving with a printed timeline and a look of profound gratitude. I help her clean up the consultation space, still turning it over in my mind.

"You do that a lot?" I ask. "Talk people down from flash mobs and drone footage?"

Maddy laughs. "Only four times this month."

"Did that go as smoothly as it looked?"

She snorts. "Oh, that was one of the easier ones. You should've seen the guy who wanted to propose mid-skydive, except for the tiny problem that he was afraid of heights."

"That can't be real."

"Unfortunately, yes. I talked him into a hot air balloon, figured slower ascent, less terrifying, but that plan fell apart the moment the operator admitted he had commitment issues. It interfered with his ability to land safely."

I blink at her. "You're making this up."

"I wish. We ended up doing it in the balloon basket on the ground, with a fan and some convincing lighting." She shrugs, pleased. "Sometimes you've got to get creative with people's dreams."

My phone buzzes, Henry.

Henry

Savvy and I are flying back tonight. Can we meet tomorrow to catch up on everything?

I show her the message.

"Perfect timing," she says, slipping back into planning mode. "We'll need all hands on deck for the festival."

Then her expression softens. "You okay with Henry knowing about … everything?"

The question hits harder than I expect.

Am I okay with it?

Henry's my friend, but this isn't a business deal. It's the part of my life I've kept sealed off and filed under "never to be discussed."

But Richard is his father.

And no one comes out of that unscathed. Whether Henry knows the full story or not, he's seen enough to fill in the blanks.

"He'll understand," I say, and for the first time, I believe it. "He's good at seeing the whole picture."

Maddy squeezes my hand. "He's going to be proud of what you're doing. What we're doing."

Her touch, her certainty, they settle a restlessness in me.

Tomorrow, we face whatever Richard throws our way.

But tonight, in this so-called war room, for the first time in years, I feel it.

I'm where I belong.