Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 318

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Dave

Yes, I proposed to the love of my life, Lydia. I’m still not sure how I managed to say the words without my voice giving away how nervous I was, but somehow I did it, and she said yes. I’m pretty sure that makes me the luckiest man alive. And before you start wondering about the ring, the size, the sapphire, and how I managed to figure out exactly what she would like, let me tell you because, honestly, I deserve some credit for this one.

The ring size was actually easier than it sounds. Remember when Lydia and I had that conversation about communication and what our relationship was going to look like? She was sitting there talking, and I was being annoyingly affectionate, wrapping my arms around her and generally finding excuses to touch her. At some point, I took her hand and casually circled my fingers around hers while we were talking. I wasn’t measuring her or doing anything suspicious. At least, I don’t think I looked suspicious. I simply paid attention. The moment I had a good idea of her finger size, I stored it in my head and moved on as though nothing had happened. Sometimes being observant is a very useful skill.

The ring itself required considerably more effort. At some point, I became a bit of a stalker. Not the alarming kind, obviously. The romantic, completely justified kind. I remembered that Lydia had once been involved in choosing a proposal ring for one of her assistants, so I started digging around to see whether I could figure out where she’d gone and what she’d liked. Eventually, I found the jeweller who had handled it and asked if they remembered which pieces she’d spent time looking at that day.

Unfortunately, they didn’t.

Apparently, jewellery stores have customers. Lots of them. Shocking revelation, I know. They couldn’t remember exactly which rings she’d lingered over, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. So I did what any perfectly reasonable man who was trying to find the ring his girlfriend would someday wear for the rest of her life would do. I used my connections and got access to the CCTV footage from that day.

And there she was.

I watched Lydia walk around the store, looking at different rings, and eventually I noticed that she kept returning to two particular ones. The first was enormous. Beautiful, expensive, probably worth more than some people’s houses, but completely wrong for her. It was the kind of ring that would enter a room five minutes before its wearer. Lydia would probably spend the entire evening trying to hide her hand because the thing was practically a chandelier.

The second one was different. Delicate. Elegant. Feminine without being excessive. It had the kind of understated beauty that suited her perfectly. She had lingered over it twice, and the second time she’d looked at it, there was this tiny expression on her face that told me everything I needed to know. She hadn’t said anything. She didn’t have to.

So I chose that one.

Then I had the sapphire changed because I wanted something that felt even more like her. Pink, delicate, simple, beautiful. Something she could wear every day without feeling like she’d been handed a piece of jewellery that was trying to announce itself to the entire city. The final ring was perfect.

At least, I thought it was.

I won’t lie, though. When I was kneeling there and Lydia looked at me and asked, “Dave, what is this?” my heart nearly stopped. For one horrible second, I genuinely thought she wasn’t going to say yes. I had rehearsed the possibility of rejection in my head, but somehow I hadn’t prepared myself for how terrifying it would feel when the moment actually arrived.

Then she said, “Hell no,” and I swear my soul left my body.

Luckily, she grabbed my hand almost immediately and clarified that she meant the exact opposite. She wanted to marry me. She actually wanted to marry me. And when she said yes, properly this time, I don’t think I’ve ever felt relief like that in my life.

I had imagined the proposal so many times that I thought I knew exactly how I’d feel when it finally happened. I didn’t. Nothing prepared me for the way Lydia looked at me with tears in her eyes, or the way her face softened when I told her I loved her, or the way she kept staring at that ring afterward as though it might disappear if she blinked too long. I had wanted to give her something beautiful, but more than that, I wanted her to know that I had paid attention. That after everything we’d been through, I knew her.

And apparently, I succeeded.

When Anna and the kids finally joined us, the entire atmosphere changed immediately. The quiet proposal became a full family event within about thirty seconds. The kids were excited, Anna was emotional, and Lydia kept looking at her ring every few minutes. I watched her through all of it, still slightly stunned that this was actually happening.

Eventually, we went home.

Lydia followed the kids upstairs to their room, and they stayed there for almost an hour. I stood downstairs thinking about how the night had gone and realized I wasn’t ready for it to end yet. I wanted to do one more thing for her.

So I got to work.

I’d already arranged for the room to be prepared earlier, so the decorations were ready to go. There were balloons, flowers, soft lighting, and everything else I’d had prepared. I wasn’t about to attempt decorating an entire room from scratch in a few minutes by myself. I may be a business genius, but I’m also self-aware enough to know that interior decoration is not where my talents lie. The event decorator had done the difficult part for me. All I needed to do was put everything where it belonged.

I was in the middle of arranging the flowers across the bed when I heard footsteps approaching.

Then Lydia walked in.

She was still talking before she even properly entered the room. “Those kids are such a handful,” she was saying, her voice carrying that familiar mixture of affection and exhaustion. “And honestly, I don’t even know why I’ve been feeling so tired lately. I guess my body is barely recuperating.”

She took another step.

Her foot hit one of the balloons.

She stopped.

There was a pause.

“Hold up. What’s this here?”

I turned around and smiled.

“Surprise.”

Her eyes widened as she looked around the room. The balloons were scattered across the floor, some arranged against the wall, while the flowers I’d placed on the bed added another layer of softness to the room. For a moment, she simply stood there taking everything in.