From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 332

I slapped his chest lightly. “Roman!”

“What?” He was laughing now, boyish and unguarded. “It’s a fair question, baby?

“You’re being impossible,” I said, crossing my arms.

He smirked. “You love that about me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Maybe. But I was thinking more along the lines of- I hesitated, “Wedding planning

His laughter died, replaced by a mild look of surprise. “Wedding planning?”

I nodded. “Yeah. But not like–right now. Just… talking about it. Having a little idea when we’d want to have it…”

“Do you want the wedding before or after we have the baby?” he asked, folding his hands behind his head. “You decide.*

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice softening. “Now doesn’t feel like the right time. There’s just so much happening, Chloe. My family.

Your family.” I hesitated, lowering my voice. “Dahlia.”

His expression didn’t change. Not a twitch, not a blink. That stillness almost unsettled me. When I said Dahlia’s name and he didn’t react, something inside me twisted. Either he’d finally let her go… or he’d learned how to hide her better.

I forced a smile, as if the name hadn’t tasted bitter on my tongue. “I guess there’s no rush.”

Roman reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the faint scent of vanilla still clung to his fingers. His touch was gentle and

unhurried.

“Whenever you’re ready. Even if you tell me you want to get married in an hour, I’ll make it happen. Just say the word.”

My chest ached. “Thank you,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss him.

His lips were warm and steady–not desperate, not possessive, just full of quiet certainty. When we pulled apart, I stayed close, my forehead resting against his.

“This is perfect,” I murmured. “I don’t even want to move today.”

“Then don’t.”

We stayed like that for a while, tangled up in silence, the morning light creeping lazily across the room. It felt too still, too peaceful–the kind of peace that never lasts long.

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Chapter 332

Roman traced lazy circles on my thigh. “You really don’t want to go anywhere?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I want to stay here. Maybe open a few presents later, have some wine. Watch terrible movies. Maybe bake

another cake.”

He chuckled. “You and Reese will definitely get along just fine.”

“I told you,” I teased. “He’s not so bad.”

Roman made a low sound in his throat, half amusement, half warning. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

I grinned. “You’re always in a good mood when you’re around me.”

“That’s true,” he said, pulling me closer.

The rest of the morning slipped by in a haze of small moments–crumbs on our fingers, icing on our lips, stolen kisses between laughter. It was the kind of quiet I’d always wanted: soft, domestic, ordinary. I was basically living my dream.

For a while, I let myself believe we could have that.

After we finished eating, Roman got up and disappeared. I heard the faint sound of drawers opening, a low curse, and then his footsteps returning. He came back holding a small velvet box.

“What’s that?” I asked, sitting up straighter.

He handed it to me. “Open it.”

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet–thin, understated, the kind of jewelry I actually wore. Three small charms dangled from it: a heart, a book, and a tiny engraved letter S.

“Roman…”

“It’s not much. I came across it and it reminded me of you,” he said, almost shyly. “I just wanted you to have something that feels like

you.”

I traced the letter with my fingertip, emotion knotting in my throat. “It’s perfect.”

He helped clasp it around my wrist, then kissed the inside of my arm, just below the charms.

The gesture was simple, but it stole the breath from my lungs. I smiled, blinking back tears. “If you keep being this sweet, I’ll start to think you’re up to something.”

Roman looked at me for a long moment. Something flickered behind his eyes–not guilt, not exactly. More like hesitation.

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