Chapter 281: ~ 280
Chapter 280
~Annie~
The entire morning, I had been grinning from ear to ear in excitement. I felt like I was completely vibrating with happiness, unable to keep the massive grin off my face as I checked my reflection one last time in the café mirror.
Just an hour ago, my phone had lit up with a text message from my older sister. It was a photo of a positive ultrasound, accompanied by the words: I’m pregnant! I had literally screamed with joy right there in my apartment.
My heart was pounding with a mix of excitement. I was going to be an aunt.
Now, sitting across from Clinton at a greenhouse café downtown, the world felt entirely perfect.
I was going on and on, talking about my day, completely and utterly in love. Clinton didn’t say much at first; he just sat there, his chin resting in his hand, staring at me with an intensity that gave me butterflies.
The way he looked at me always made me feel like the rest of the crowded café had entirely vanished. To him, I was clearly the only girl in the world, and that silent devotion was more grounding than any words could ever be.
"Oh! I completely forgot to tell you the biggest news," I burst out, leaning across the small iron table, my eyes wide as I held his gaze. "My sister texted me right before I left. She’s pregnant!"
Clinton’s eyes softened instantly, a brilliant, genuine smile breaking across his handsome face. He shifted forward, his full attention locking onto me. "Are you serious? Wow, Annie, that’s amazing. I know how badly she and her husband wanted this. That is incredible news."
"I know! I’m going to be an aunt!" I squealed, bouncing slightly in my seat, my hands gesturing wildly.
"Hey," Clinton interrupted softly, reaching across the table to capture my hand. His large, warm palm covered mine, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles in a slow, soothing rhythm. His gaze locked onto mine, deep and heavy with a warmth that made my cheeks instantly flush. "I can’t wait to make beautiful babies with you too, Annie."
My breath hitched, and a fierce, burning blush rushed straight up my neck to my face. I looked down at our joined hands, biting my lower lip to keep from smiling too hard. "Clinton... stop it. We aren’t even married yet."
"Yet," he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet, knowing confidence that made my pulse race.
To hide my burning face and regain some semblance of composure, I turned my head and looked out the massive glass windows of the greenhouse. Across the busy downtown street, my eyes caught on a spectacular, high-end building with a beautiful, flower-covered terrace winding all the way around its upper level.
"Look at that," I said, pointing toward it. "Imagine a date up there. Hint, hint, Mr. A rooftop date covered in flowers would be incredibly romantic. You’d get the skyline, the breeze, and all those gorgeous petals. It’s practically out of a movie."
"A rooftop, huh? I’ll definitely have to file that note away for the future. You think you’d like something like that?"
"Are you kidding? Any girl would," I laughed, leaning back into my chair, entirely oblivious to the blueprint he had already finalized. "It’s the ultimate romantic gesture. But don’t worry, I’m perfectly content with our greenhouse café too."
Before I could tease him further about his mysterious, quiet tone, the soft background music in the café suddenly faded out. A man with an acoustic guitar stepped onto the small wooden platform in the corner, adjusting the microphone stand with a slight metallic screech.
"Good afternoon, everyone," the musician smiled into the mic, strumming a loose, warm chord. "The management here loves celebrating love, so we’re doing something a little special for our couples today. I have a message that was passed to me just a few minutes ago, dedicated to a very special lady in the room."
I picked up my iced latte, completely oblivious to the setup, taking a slow sip as I scanned the room to see which lucky girl was about to get publicly adored. I loved watching other people’s romantic moments; it always made the world feel a little softer.
"This song and this message go out to Annie," the singer announced, pointing his guitar directly toward our table.
I choked slightly on my drink, my eyes widening to the size of saucers as half the café turned their heads to look at us. My face turned bright crimson in a matter of seconds. "Clinton!" I whispered frantically, leaning across the table, my voice a panicked, embarrassed hiss. "What did you do? Oh my god, everyone is looking at us!"
Clinton just leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest while wearing a smug, incredibly proud grin. "Just listen, beautiful. Don’t look at them, look at me."
The musician struck a soft, romantic chord and began to speak-sing over the gentle melody, reading off a custom cue card the waiter had clearly handed him right after Clinton slipped him a tip.
"Annie, the man sitting across from you wanted me to tell you that your smile is the only light he needs," the singer performed, his voice smooth and melodic. "He says your laugh is his absolute favorite song, and he wants to shower you with love every single day for the rest of his life. He wanted me to tell you that from the moment you walked into his world, he knew he was never going to be the same."
The entire café let out a collective, soft "Awww," and a few people at the corner tables actually started clapping and snapping their fingers. I buried my face in my hands, laughing and blushing.
"You are absolutely ridiculous," I laughed, finally dropping my hands to glare at him playfully, though my eyes were bright and watery with tears of pure happiness. I reached across the table and swatted his arm. "Did you seriously coordinate with the café singer to confess your love to me in prose?"
"I didn’t write the music, but I definitely dictated the words," Clinton chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he reached back out to firmly squeeze my hand, pulling me out of my embarrassed shell. "And I meant every single word, Annie. Every word. I just wanted everyone in this room to know exactly how lucky I am to be the guy sitting across from you today."
"Clinton, my face is going to permanently turn this shade of red," I whispered, though my hand relaxed completely in his. "You are too much."
"I am exactly the right amount for you," he teased, his grin widening as the singer transitioned into a beautiful acoustic rendition of a classic love song.
We sat there for the next hour, completely lost in our own world. We talked about everything and nothing, laughing about my chaotic attempts at baking, discussing our plans for the upcoming weekend.
There was no pretense with him, no rigid expectations. With me, Clinton was just completely transparent, sharing his humor, his warmth, and his undivided attention.
I looked at him across the table, watching the way the sunlight caught the sharp lines of his jaw and the gentle crinkles around his eyes when he laughed.
Listening to him, laughing with him in the sunlit greenhouse, and knowing that he went out of his way just to make me blush and feel adored, I truly couldn’t have asked for a better man. My future felt completely safe in his hands, and as we finally stood up to leave, I clung to his arm, secretly wishing this perfect afternoon would never have to end.