A smile instantly spread across Monica's face, a rush of happiness surging through her like a chemical reaction. So the bad guy had been lying to her all along~~~
More and more voices joined in the singing—not just Owen, but other diners, waiters, and Monica's friends that Owen had invited in advance.
Familiar faces appeared from all directions, clapping in rhythm: her close friends from her SWAT days—Ash, Thatcher, Castle—and even Becky, who had flown in from Washington. Owen's comrades from Omega were there too—Ghost, Heartbeat, Swagger…
By the time Owen finished singing, Monica's emotions had reached a breaking point. She couldn't hold back anymore and leapt into his arms. Owen caught her and pulled her into a tight embrace.
The lights came back up to the sound of applause all around.
"Baby, happy birthday~~~"
Owen took the opportunity to kiss her deeply, and Monica melted into it. The applause grew louder. The staff of Le Grand Nez clapped enthusiastically—it had been a long time since they'd seen such a romantic scene.
"Thank you, thank you, everyone."
Monica came back to her senses, and Owen helped her stand upright. Then he raised a hand, and just like a rehearsed performance, the applause stopped instantly.
Monica looked around in surprise. Everyone was smiling warmly at them. The lights dimmed again, and a single spotlight shone down, framing them like the leads in a movie.
Owen's right hand disappeared behind his back in an almost theatrical flourish. When it reappeared, it held a bouquet of fresh flowers, as if conjured from thin air.
Monica saw the playful smile on his face. Then he took a step back, dropped to one knee, bouquet in his left hand, and a diamond ring in his right.
She didn't need to guess what was happening. Still, her hands flew to her mouth, eyes glistening with tears, as she watched Owen begin.
"Beautiful Miss Monica Weiss, the first time we had a shooting contest, I won—but barely. I almost lost to you. And right then, I thought, 'This woman… she's something else. She's one of a kind.'"
Monica's mind drifted back to their first meeting. Hands clasped over her chest, she listened quietly, the light in Owen's eyes visible even in the darkness.
"Later, I taught you to shoot. You taught me to fight. And after you put me on the ground with Krav Maga over and over again, I swore to myself—I'm never letting this woman out of my life."
The playful jab drew laughter from the crowd. Monica, remembering those days of beating Owen into the mats, let out a silvery laugh. Her old SWAT teammates smiled knowingly—it was a shared memory.
"Then we ended up in the same unit, risking our lives together again and again. We became the perfect team, thinking as one. We've struggled side by side on the brink of death. And I'll never forget that mission—trapped together, no way out—and instead of thinking about survival, we decided right there that we were in love."
Monica blushed. Of course she remembered. She'd been kidnapped by Colombian cartel thugs, and Owen had gone in alone to rescue her. Cornered behind a wine cabinet with dozens of guns pointed their way, they'd made it official right there.
Ash, Thatcher, Heartbeat—they remembered Colombia too. They'd all been there. But none of them had known that was the turning point.
"And now… my angel, I, Steve Owen, want to spend the rest of my life protecting you, loving you, and making sure every day of yours is filled with happiness. Will you marry me?"
When he finished, the room fell silent. The spotlight stayed on them. All eyes were on Monica, waiting for her to say those three words.
She felt struck by pure joy. She wanted to shout "I do" immediately, but her body seemed frozen. Memories played in her mind like a film reel—Colombia, the Slovakian death factory, all the life-and-death moments they'd shared. For most people, they were epic adventures; for her, they felt pure and simple in a way that cut to the heart.
"Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!"
Someone started it, and soon the whole room was chanting. The sound brought her back to the present. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked at Owen, still kneeling, still smiling.
She held out her hand. Owen slid the ring onto her left ring finger, handed her the bouquet, and she finally spoke: "I do!"
Whoosh~~~
The room erupted. Petals rained from above. Behind them, Beth wiped her own tears—touched by their love, and proud of her role in making this happen.
It had taken a lot to pull off. Just a day earlier, Owen had called her with the plan. As their friend—and future godmother to their child—Beth had gone all-in. Money alone couldn't book Le Grand Nez for an entire night, but Beth's connections could. She posed as if she'd just come to L.A., invited Monica to dinner, and set the stage.
Everything had gone perfectly—until Monica hesitated at the proposal. Owen's scalp had gone numb in those seconds, fearing some Hollywood-style twist. But she'd only been overwhelmed.
From there, the night turned into a celebration. The "other diners" were all friends in disguise.
Wine, food, music, and the magic of Hollywood… everyone had a great time, drinking and laughing well into the night. Some partied hard enough that no one was sure what the morning might bring.
Owen and Monica slipped out early, sitting on a bench by the river, enjoying their own private moment. He touched her belly—nearly three months along now. Her figure hadn't changed much, and aside from some morning sickness, she moved easily.
"Darling, I've got some leave right now. We've always talked about going to Hawaii—how about a spontaneous trip?"
Monica, curled against him and turning her new ring over in her fingers, sat up with delight.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"That's wonderful…"
Then her eyes sparkled with another idea.
"But Hawaii's close. We can go anytime. There's somewhere else I really want to go. I'm afraid once the baby's here, I won't be able to. People say for the first two years you barely get beyond the park."
"Anywhere you want. Where is it?"
"I want to go to the Amazon. That's my birthday wish."
______
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